


something like prayer

by weatheredlaw



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 56,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To love another is something like prayer, and cannot be planned. You just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief."<br/>-- Anne Sexton</p><p>or: judy/nick drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. possessive pronouns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is having a panic attack. It’s not really a big deal – all he needs to do is slide under his desk, close his eyes, and start breathing carefully and count backwards from eighty-four.
> 
> She finds him around forty-two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for panic attacks, anxiety attacks, discussions of anxiety disorder

Nick is having a panic attack. It’s not really a big deal – all he needs to do is slide under his desk, close his eyes, and start breathing carefully and count backwards from eighty-four.

She finds him around forty-two.

“…Are you okay?”

There is something about that sentence that, were it to come from _anyone else_ , would have him _howling._

Hopps never means anything bad by anything. She’s a good friend, a good cop, a good partner – she _loves him_ , and Nick knows there isn’t anyone in this city or world that could say the same thing.

He can literally see the gears turning behind her eyes, and suddenly she’s there, and she’s counting along with him – not the same counting, Nick’s method doesn’t really work that well, and her voice is dropping down, just ever so slightly, into this rich, soothing thing that melts in between all the spaces of them he is too afraid to fill.

“You’re going too fast,” she says. He wants to _snarl_ , but she is so good, so patient and kind – “Breathe in, inhale for five seconds, hold it for two.” Nick manages a nod. “Now, exhale for five seconds.” Air leaves his chest in a quiet rush. She pats his leg. “Do it again.”

Nick does it again.

Eventually, the calm returns. He blinks through the haze and she’s still there, her little head tilted to the side, ears bent under the desk.

“You okay?”

“Um.” He frantically tries to make words, sounds, anything come out of his mouth.

Judy nods, and takes his hand. “You should rest,” she says. “I’m heading home, you can stay with me.”

“I—” The sentence crashes, burns, explodes spectacularly into fiery pieces.

He nods.

 

* * *

 

If he had even a _modicum_ of the coherency he normally possessed, Nick would mercilessly tease Judy Hopps for her digs.

_Mercilessly._

“My neighbors are loud,” she says.

“ _Did Judy bring a guy home?_ ”

“ _In the middle of the afternoon?_ ”

They hoot and the wall rattles. “ _Up top, Jude!_ ” She high fives the sticky wallpaper and rolls her eyes.

“You can ignore them. I usually do.” Nick’s voice is in danger of coming back and sounding _pathetic_ , so he makes an agreeable gesture. Judy pats the bed. “Up you get.” He points at her. “I’m going to read and check some emails. Don’t worry about me.”

Nick wants to tell her that he does, basically all the time, but the sweet hands of sleep grab at him, pull him under. The last thing he hears is her neighbors popping a tab, the creak of the mattress, and the soft whir of her laptop booting up on her desk.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up, and he feels _crusty._

Someone is speaking at the door. Not his door. Someone else’s door. Does he have a door? He can’t remember, he just got one, he couldn’t be a cop and still live with Finnick part time, it was awkward and—

“Take out,” Judy says.

“Carrots?”

“Well, for me.”

“No.” He coughs. “ _Carrots._ ” She laughs. “Shit, what happened?”

“You…don’t remember?”

“Well, I’ve woken up in worse spots. Worse company, too.” He takes the little cardboard box and inhales the sweet and sour smell of their favorite dive in the Rainforest District. “You paid for _Canopy_?” he mutters, and she shrugs. “You really do love me, Hopps.”

“It’s a curse. Tragic and simple.” She shovels greens into her mouth.

Nick groans, “Did you seriously find me under my _desk_ and bring me back to your apartment?”

“I did. Is that okay? Should I have called someone—”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. I just…usually deal with that. Alone.”

“But you’re not alone anymore,” she points out. “You have me.”

“ _Kiss already, good grief!_ ”

“Bucky, go to _bed!_ ” Judy shouts, tossing a book at the wall. “Anyway.” She looks back at Nick. “We learned to deal with panic attacks at the Academy. Standard procedure when you’re dealing with an anxious witness. Or partner.”

“I’m not _anxious_ ,” he snaps. “I just…get anxious. Sometimes. It’s not a problem.”

“You…” She leans forward. “You looked _really_ scared.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Nick.”

He takes a long couple of minutes to finish his food before tossing the carton into the trash – he misses on purpose. Judy doesn’t even flinch.

“I was scared,” he says. “Once. I used to get them when I was a kid, but my mom would always take care of me. When she wasn’t around anymore, I had to figure out how to take care of myself.”

“Are you…is being on the force making you…anxious?”

“Actually. Yes.” He swallows. “But it’s going to pass. I just need to…work on it. Work through it.”

“Nick—”

“You really helped me out today, Carrots. I appreciate it. But I’ve been working through this on my own for a while now, and I’m pretty confident that I—”

“No.”

Nick blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Absolutely not.” She stands, and with him sitting on her bed, the slouch of the mattress is enough to make them almost eye level. It’s the second most pathetic thing in the room. The first now being himself, of course. “You are my partner, and my friend. You and I are going to deal with this _together._ ” She starts pacing, gesturing like she’s giving a campaign speech –

Nick has to make it stop.

“Carrots.” No dice. “Hopps.” Nothin’. “ _Judy!_ ”

She whirls around, paws frozen in midair. “You…you don’t want my help.”

“No,” he says. “I mean, yes. I do. I just…this is my thing. I don’t want it to be your thing.”

Judy sighs, and not for the first time, Nick really _does_ feel dumb.

Doesn’t feel bad, though. Not when she smiles.

“It wouldn’t _be_ my thing,” she says. “It’d be _our_ thing.”

They are joined at the pads of their paws, a strange feeling, oozing in between all those spaces they have that neither has really known how to fill until now.

“ _Seriously, just kiss!_ ”

Judy doesn’t hesitate. “Zip it, Pronk!” She smiles, leaning forward and tipping her nose to Nick’s.

“Um.”

“Breech of protocol, I know.”

“Well, technically, yeah. But rules aren’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, I know that, too.”

“So…”

“So, here we are.”

Nick swallows. “You don’t have to do this for me. You don’t have to take this on—”

“It’s for us. It’s for you, so it’s for us.”

“Symbiosis.”

She nods. “Precisely.”

“And if sometimes, I get to kiss you—”

“Mutually beneficial parasitism,” she breathes.

Nick suppresses a shiver. “ _Perfect._ ”


	2. you know what they say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy's been missing for thirty-nine hours, fourteen minutes, and twelve seconds.
> 
> Nick is...coping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for kidnapping, mild language, references to food/water/sleep deprivation

Carrots is missing.

Has been missing

Thirty-nine hours, fourteen minutes, and twelve – thirteen – fourteen

“Wilde.”

“Fifteen.”

Bogo huffs. “What?”

Nick taps his watch. “Sixteen. Seventeen.”

“Stop counting.”

He shakes his head. “Gotta stay vigilant, Chief. Keep on top of—”

“Stop using sarcasm as a defense mechanism and go home.”

Nick turns, and Bogo is hovering – _please don’t hover I don’t like the hover_ – his arms folded over his chest.

“Didn’t catch that, Chief.”

“Go. _Home._ Wilde.”

“No can-do, sir. Important business to take care of, got lots of people to call, leads to follow up on—”

“Staring at her empty chair isn’t going to get her back, and you’re no good to me exhausted.” Bogo turns to head back into his office. “Go home, sleep, and come back ready to go in the morning.”

“Sir—”

He snaps around, nostrils flaring. “ _It’s an order, Wilde._ ”

Nick sighs, sliding out of his chair. “Yes, sir.” He throws one last look at Judy’s desk and pushes his sunglasses over his face before heading out.

 

* * *

 

_I’m fine, Nick._

_Please don’t worry about me, Nick._

_You know that I—_

 

* * *

 

Forty-six hours.

Twenty-nine minutes.

He’s not even counting the seconds anymore –

(eleven, though, in case you wondered.)

 

* * *

 

_“In local news today, one of ZPD’s favored officers, Judy Hopps, has been missing for two days. Chief Bogo has declined to comment, but did inform us that the investigation is ongoing. Hopps made waves last year when she broke the missing mammals case wide open.”_

 

* * *

 

He keeps going over that day, making list after list, searching name after name. It takes every bit of will power not to rip off his badge and tear into these streets himself. But he’s trying to behave – for her, for himself, for propriety’s sake.

And it’s _killing him._ He’s rigid at his desk, everyone is avoiding him like he might explode –

(because he did, to be fair, he absolutely did when Horace put a hand on his shoulder and it was wrong it was so _wrong_ because he is missing her and everyone knows everyone can see he is a _bomb_ —)

“Wilde.”

Bogo’s voice is harsh enough to cut through the fog, and Nick looks up. The Chief holds the door to his office open and Nick somehow manages to walk through it, sit in a chair, and not tear it to pieces.

Phenomenal progress today, really.

“You’re dying out there.”

“We’re all dying, sir. Circle of life.”

Bogo drops into his seat. “If you were who you used to be, how long would it take you to find her?”

Nick’s ear twitches. “A day. Two, tops.” Bogo nods, toying with his desk calendar and taking a sip of his coffee. “…Sir?”

“You have seventy-two hours. I won’t ask any questions, or wonder how you did it.” He stands, now, handing out his hoof. “Badge, Wilde.”

“I…what?”

“Give me. Your badge.” Nick nods, fumbling for a second before he gets it off. “Three days. Do it in less, if you can.”

“Um. Right.” Nick hops from the chair and heads to the door.

“Wilde.” He turns, and Bogo opens a drawer and tosses his badge into it. “Don’t kill anyone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

 

* * *

 

He goes to Big, first. They turn over some stones, rattle a few cages and shake down a few losers here and there, but – nothing. Still nothing.

_Where are you, Carrots? Help me out here._

“Perhaps she’s returned home,” Big suggests, but Nick shakes his head. He’d called there already, awkwardly explaining that he was a friend, just a friend, and her partner at work and yeah he was the fox and yeah okay everything was fine she’d just left pretty quickly, but she was okay, she’s –

Bogo calls and tells him the Hopps have picked up the buzz from the news and are camped out in HQ. “Stay far away from here,” he warns over the phone, and hangs up.

Nick slides his phone into his pocket and bashes his head against the wall. Repeatedly.

_Where’d you go, dumb bunny?_

_Where’d you go?_

 

* * *

 

He shakes down Bellweather next, but she’s no use. Can’t do much from where she’s stuck and that’s fine by Nick –

(he still remembers that feeling, when that berry burst against his skin and he wondered _did I do it right this time?_ )

“Gotta do right,” he mutters. He’s snagged Finn’s van, the same Finn who is salty, _salty_ about Nick going cold turkey on crime, but sort of proud in the way only Finn can be.

And he likes Judy. Thinks she’d made a decent guy out of Nick if he’d let her. “She’s too sweet for you, but she’s got it bad, Nicky, can’t say why or how.”

“You hear anything?”

“Nothing you haven’t heard, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”

Later, he falls asleep in the back of the van, realizes it’s been almost twenty-six hours, and his window is closing.

_Time to do this right._

 

* * *

 

A club like Instinct is no place for a bunny like Judy, Nick knows this from the start. But it’s the sort of place where a former nobody like the fox he was – before Carrots, so far before Carrots, when he was seventeen and still trying to figure out what it all meant – might go to get a tip. A job. Something to put food on the table.

“We all know about you, Nicky.” Gracie’s a good vixen – good looking, anyway. She’s basically pure evil, and Nick’s learned that the hard way. “We all know you went soft. Heard your girlfriend’s gone and poofed herself.”

“She’s got a family.”

“She’s a rabbit, Nick. Of course she’s got a family.” Gracie leans in and looks at the photo. “You should ask TJ about her. He’s into some sketchy stuff.” Nick growls, feels her fur stand on end. Gracie stops smoking long enough to look right at him. “You wanted to keep a sweet thing like her around, Nicky, a good fox like you should have held on tight. No one’s fault if she’s just gone, baby. You couldn’t have known.”

 

* * *

 

TJ’s a shit lead, but he gives a name, and that name gives a name, and that name has Nick crawling on his belly in the sewers, coming out into an empty expanse of warehouse that’s muggy enough to tell him he’s crawled all the way to the Rainforest District.

“ _Carrots?_ ” Nothing. An echo. Stupid fox, don’t just _shout_ , not when—

He wanders. He searches.

_Where’d you go, dumb bunny?_

_Where’d they take you?_

 

* * *

 

There’s no sign of her in the warehouse, but he gets another name, has Clawhauser run it, and doesn’t like what he finds.

 

* * *

 

Parvo Dallas is panda with a bad rep. Nick knows the name, because Nick knows everyone. Parvo Dallas isn’t even his real name, but he’s some kind of pretention psychopath and if Judy busted him in the middle of doing something she shouldn’t have seen, he isn’t sure what happens next.

But, then, he has underestimated his rabbit before.

He’s back in uniform, leading the take down of Parvo’s filthy, dingy apartment downtown. The door comes off the hinges, fall to the carpet in a mushroom of dust and –

“—you do or say _can_ and _will_ be used against you in a court of law.”

Parvo’s tied up, Judy’s stepping on his _face_ and she looks bad, not beaten or bloody, just bad and ruffled and kind of _mad_ –

“ _Judy._ ” Her name bubbles up and Nick can’t stop himself from rushing her, grabbing her up as McHorn and Bogo put an extra set of cuffs on Parvo for good measure, while Nick touches every part of her he can, trying to see where she’s hurt, if she’s hurt—

“Nick. _Nick._ ” She stops him, looks him right in the eye and says: “I’m fine, Nick. I told you.”

“You were _gone._ You were gone for four days, and I was alone and—” Nick blinks. Judy smiles weakly, then collapses into his arms.

“No food,” Bogo says. “No water. She needs a hospital and a good meal, but I think she’s fine, Wilde.”

“She’s not fine.”

“She’ll have to be, you know that.”

Nick holds her until the paramedics arrive, and even then, it’s hard to let go.

It’s always going to be, he realizes.

(it’s a scary thought, and it changes _everything._ )

 

* * *

 

He wakes up by her bed and she’s still asleep. Her parents are watching. Nick closes his eyes.

“Should we be worried?”

“We work with Gideon now, it can’t be bad.”

“He was the one who found her, he’s her partner.”

“Chief said he hasn’t stopped looking since she went missing.”

“Hasn’t left her side since she got here.”

“You don’t think—”

“I just don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

“You can stop pretending to sleep,” she murmurs. “They’re gone.”

He sits up, groggy because he was really sleeping, wishing he could go back to it. Judy reaches out and cups his cheek.

“Dumb fox.”

“Judy—” He rushes her all over again, curling up and around her, a closing parenthesis to her open ended line – he wants to spill his guts, but she’s still dehydrated, still tired and going in and out.

“Stay here,” she says. “Nick, stay with me.”

“I’m never leaving. Not ever. Except to go to the bathroom.”

“Hold it,” she mutters, pulling him as close as possible. “I love you, I need you to stay.”

He nods. “I know. I will. I’ll stay, I promise.”

“I believe you,” she says, before she finally drifts off, and Nick is left to contemplate the tangles – sheets, arms, fingers, lives – and sort his own out.

He decides he likes it, even if it’s messy, and slides under the thin hospital blanket and puts a paw over her heart –

Hers always beats faster than his, but, for a moment, just the briefest, faintest moment –

They beat together.


	3. deflated balloon noises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's called a proposal, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future fic, established relationship
> 
> (i might need to write the side b to this where nick doesn't ask and judy does instead.)

They don’t live together, and considering how stark-raving _mad_ she seems to be with him – that suits Nick just _fine._

Anyone who doesn’t know Judy might not be able to tell just from looking at her – but Nick can. He can tell the second the words come out of his mouth, as they’re sitting across from one another at dinner, a dinner that was supposed to be Romantic and Important and all those good things. One of her ears is twitching, just… _ever_ so slightly, and her arms are folded tight over her chest. She doesn’t look _happy_ , but she doesn’t look like she might flip the table over.

She doesn’t flip the table over, but there is a precedent.

(like the time they tried living together for three weeks and he wandered in at two in the morning and they had a shift at five and he woke the neighbors and her and the entire block pretty much when Finn’s van backfired so loud it sounded like a _marching band_ , and he should have been paying attention when he tripped over those garbage pails, really, it wasn’t his fault –)

“Go get the car,” she says, fifteen seconds after the words leave his mouth.

“Jude—”

“Go. Get. _The car._ ” She reaches into her purse and takes out her wallet, and Nick slinks out of the restaurant in defeat.

 _So much for that_ , he thinks, and wonders if she’d mind if he drove off and called her a cab.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t do that, because he doesn’t need her to be any angrier than she already is, frankly. It’s…scary, in the way that pollen can be dangerous – it looks fluffy and cute, but it could really wreck your sinuses.

…Okay, he thinks. Bad metaphor. Bad idea to compare your girlfriend to allergens, even when she can’t hear you do it.

“ _What?_ ” she asks suddenly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I am not an _allergen._ Good grief, Nick, what’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Nothing!” he insists. “I told you, I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“You called marriage and institutions like it a sham, organized to enslave those too foolish to participate in it.”

“I…did. Yes.” _Because that was part of the plan. It was a good plan. Once._

“We’ve been dating for five years. I just…I thought this was going somewhere. I thought you wanted more.”

“I do!”

“Then _don’t say things like that._ ” The car stops in front of her apartment. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Just…don’t talk to me until the morning.”

The slam of the passenger door shouldn’t seem so _final_ –

But it does. It really, totally, completely does.

 

* * *

 

Okay.

The plan was…not so great.

It had seemed great when he’d explained it to Finn –

(and he should have listened to Finn, because Finn said it was stupid, but Clawhauser liked it, and that’s not really a reflection of either of them, so much as it’s a reflection of how well they know him.)

Throw her off the trail. Let her think, hey, this guy’s not really interested in marriage and oh _gosh_ wouldn’t it be funny if he proposed to her, like, _right_ after –

She won’t be…mad.

One might call it _hopping_ mad, but one probably doesn’t want to get slapped at six-thirty in the morning while one’s partner, girlfriend, and soulmate pretends that one does not exist in the desk over.

Nick fights the urge to bang his head against the desk. It’s going to be a long, _long_ day.

 

* * *

 

 **finn:** i told you it was stupid  
**nick:** thanks you haven’t mentioned that yet  
**finn:** it was dumb, wilde  
**nick:** yep, i already know thank you  
**finn:** you gotta try again  
**nick:** before or after she bores holes into my skull with her eyes?  
**finn:** this is hysterical

Nick tosses his phone onto the coffee table and groans, rubbing his paws over his eyes. He needs a plan. He needs a new plan, and he needs to rethink what he’s doing.

He wants to _marry_ Judy Hopps. Like, full on, commit to this, in it to win it, _marry_ this girl.

She’s great, she’s beautiful, she’s earnest and kind, she’s always been out of his league, and frankly, that’s the kind of thing he looks for in a partner. Speaks _volumes_ about her patience for him, and their collective standards.

“Plan b,” he says, out loud, thinking it might materialize in front of him.

His phone buzzes.

 **finn:** stop over thinking it and ask her.

Nick huffs.

“Right.”

 

* * *

 

She blocks the door – it’s not the first he hasn’t been welcomed over, and it probably won’t be the last, but he’s hoping the door might be different and things might be a little better the next time it happens.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“No.”

Nick groans. “Please don’t make me do this in the hall, Carrots.”

“Whatever you’re planning to say, I think it’s alright if the hallway hears you, Wilde.”

He grumbles. “ _Fine._ ”

He drops to one knee.

Judy steps back.

“But _you said_ —”

“It was the plan.”

She sputters. “ _That’s a terrible plan!_ ”

“Will you stop talking for two seconds so I can do this?”

“What is this? What are you doing?”

He grins, pleased that he’s finally disarmed her long enough to get the ring out of his pocket and open the box.

“It’s called a proposal, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

“You could have waited until I was done.”

“ _Five years_ , Nick.” She holds up her paw and inspects the ring. “Five years. I think I’ve waited long enough.”

He hums. “You know you love me.”

“Do I know that?” she says, sitting up on her elbow and kissing his forehead. “Yes. Yes I do.”


	4. elastic heart [role reversal au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s just a bunny, man. What could go wrong?” - or, the opposites 'verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably part 1 of 2; role reversal (con artist judy, cop nick); warnings for discussions of families, SFW, mild language

“Let me guess. Fox cop? You’re, what, mid-twenties? Probably little to no family, looking to make up for a shady past doing what you feel like you were _meant_ to do and finally embracing what you _wanted_ to do. And now you’re chasing _me_ down, not to satisfy some bizarre, primal need to playact an ancient rivalry, but to _prove_ to someone, probably your boss, that you can actually make this work.” The rabbit leans back. “Am I right?”

Nick doesn’t growl, he won’t give her the satisfaction.

“You can’t get me, Fox. I’ve won this time around.”

“I _will_ get you on something, Carrots.”

“Oh, you can try,” she says sweetly, and blows him a kiss. “Have a good day, officer. Oh, and by the way?” She points behind him. “Your meter’s up.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know why the dumb bunny riles him up the way she does – but it’s got his nerves on fire. She’d dug at him, reached right in and _yanked_ on everything that had been threatening to bubble over, and now he’s got nothing left. He can’t get her on a thing – she’s never been picked up before, she technically has a job, she has a known address and supposedly a dozen associates who can advocate for her Shining Character.

But he caught her, he _knows_ what he saw, he knows a pickpocket when he sees one because once upon a time, in a kingdom right here in town – he was doing the same things. A little slower than her, he’ll never admit. Bunnies have quick hands, quick feet, right? That’s the thing about them, isn’t it?

“Hey, Wilde. _Wilde!_ How’d meter duty go?” McHorn tosses a towel into his face as Nick contemplates the locker in front of him.

He twists the tail and snaps it. “Shut up, McHorn.”

“Nah, you heard.” Grizzly leans against a wall of lockers. “Some rabbit showed him up. How long did you chase her for?”

“I didn’t chase her,” Nick says calmly, pulling a shirt over his head. “We strolled. It was very romantic. She’s supposed to call me tomorrow.”

McHorn chuckles. “Learned your lesson though, I’ll bet.”

“Indeed. I’ll probably never talk back to my superiors ever again.”

Grizzly snorts. “You’re so full of shit, Nicky.”

Nick laughs along with them until they wander out of the locker room, buttons his pants, and dashes out.

It’s been a long, stupid, _annoying_ day – he’d rather it just be over.

 

* * *

 

“ _Why_ do you keep _bothering_ me? Don’t you have a bus to ticket?”

“Temporary assignment,” he says. “Today, I’m keeping an eye on you.”

The rabbit taps her foot, throws her paws up in the air, and starts down the sidewalk. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m _working_ today, in case you didn’t know. I’ve got a job? Maybe you missed that when you ran back to HQ with your tail between your legs so you could look me up.”

“I didn’t look you up,” he lies, and he wants to say his voice didn’t waver. But she’s clever – she catches it.

“Why are you obsessed with this?”

“I’m not.”

She laughs. “You’ve got my _records_ in your hand, you’re following me around.” She ticks them off. “Just leave me alone, Fox. I’ve got things to do today.”

“I saw you. I saw you pick that rhino’s pocket.”

She snorts. “You don’t care about that. You care about what I said to you.”

Under his fur, Nick feels his skin flush, red with anger, irritation. He wants to cuff this bunny, drag her to HQ and let her _rot_ in an interrogation room.

She shouldn’t get to him like this. She _shouldn’t get to him._

“I’m _late_ ,” she snaps. “Leave me alone, or I’ll report you for shirking your duties and _stalking_ me.”

Nick scowls. “Fine. But if I catch you again—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m very afraid.”

“I got my eyes on you, Hopps.”

“Oh, we’re using names now.” She folds her arms over her chest. “That’s dangerous business, Wilde. Makes us real to one another. Better be careful.” She grins and hops onto a bike, taking off down the sidewalk.

Nick’s fur stands on end, but he really isn’t sure why.

 

* * *

 

He figures it won’t do him any good to find her on purpose, but the second he stops looking for her, she seems to be everywhere. It doesn’t escape her notice.

“Look who we have here.”

“I’m just getting coffee, Carrots.”

“Oh, I know.” She smiles and produces some cash, turning to the barista. “Me and him are together. Get up here, Fox. Order something.”

“I can get my own.”

“Get _up here_ , and _order_ something.” She grabs him back the sleeve of his shirt and hauls him toward the counter. Nick orders a black coffee and pulls back. “See? Wasn’t so hard.”

After, they sit together at a little table, drinking in silence until Nick says, “You were wrong about one thing, the other day.”

He thinks he might have to remember, but she knows. “Oh? What about?”

“I’m not out to prove anything to anyone but myself,” he says coolly. “For one. Second, I do have family. Just not here.”

Hopps leans forward. “Is this two truths and a lie, Wilde? Because there’s something in there that I don’t believe. Tell me one more thing, we’ll see if I can figure it out.”

“Alright.” Nick leans forward. “I’ll tell you something about me, then you tell me something about _you._ ”

She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her tea. “Fine. But you first.”

Nick smiles. “I can stand on one hand for fifteen minutes.”

“I can run a mile in under three minutes.”

“I once stole a cop car that was the chief’s before he was chief.”

“I took all your traffic cones the other day and I’ll bet you didn’t even notice.” Nick sputters. “Gotcha.”

“Fine.” He takes a long drink of his coffee. “I became a cop because my mom always told me she expected me to do some good in this world.”

Hopps narrows her eyes. “Game’s over,” she says, and stands to leave.

“Uh-uh.” Nick follows after her. “You owe me one more.”

“This game is _over_ ,” she snaps. “You got two solid facts. That’s enough for one day.”

“Come on, Carrots. Just one more.” He grabs her shoulder, but she moves quick and knocks him back. He stumbles and nearly falls over.

Her eyes widen. Her nose twitches.

The light changes and the sidewalk floods with commuters.

When he looks for her again, she’s gone.

 

* * *

 

He’s not the one to bring her in. McHorn does, says she got busted hustling pool tables at a dive downtown, and she’s asking for him. Specifically.

“Little awkward, Wilde, you know?”

“I ran into her a few weeks back,” Nick tries to say. “The rabbit, remember?”

“Right. Well, she’s not in too much trouble right now. I’ll let her off with a warning, but she does it again, she’s spending the night downtown.”

Nick nods. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks, bud.”

“Be careful, Nicky. She’s no good for you.”

“She’s just a bunny, man. What could go wrong?”

 

* * *

 

She gives him her word that she won’t get caught. Not that she’ll stop, or even never do it again.

Just –

“I’ve never gotten caught before.”

“Someone called.”

That gets her fur standing up, and her foot taps impatiently on the sidewalk as they wait for the light to change.

“You can’t…do this stuff, Hopps.”

“And what _should_ I do?” she asks. “Clean up? Join the fuzz?”

“No,” he says gently. “I just don’t want to see you wind up on the wrong side of everything. You…you seem alright.”

“I am alright,” she insists. “I’m not…forget it. I don’t have to explain myself to you, and I shouldn’t anyway. You haven’t earned that.”

Nick nods. “You’re right, I haven’t. But I’d like to, if you’d let me.”

Hopps frowns. “You want me to trust you.”

“Yes.”

“Not likely,” she admits.

“Well.” They stop in front of her apartment. “I’d really like to give it a shot. You game?”

Hopps inspects him for a moment, before extending her paw and shaking on it.

“Alright, Fox. You’ve got a deal.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Carrots.” He bows and starts heading back toward the main street.

“Hey!” He turns, and she’s got one hand on the door, one hanging down by her side. “I’ve got two-hundred and seventy-five siblings.” Nick raises a brow. “I owed you one, remember?” With a grin, she disappears inside.


	5. thick skin [role reversal au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You matter,” he says, pressing this upon her like it might live in her, might take root in her and _grow_. “You matter to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of 2 (role reversal AU). warnings for family discussions; includes love confessions and smooches; SFW, mild language.

“You know, I was talking to _Finnick_ the other day—” Nick spits coffee all over the table. Judy snorts. “ _Wow._ ”

“Why were you talking to Finn?”

“Getting the 411 on a certain fox that I now associate with on a day-to-day basis.” She leans forward on her elbow. “He said you used to be _legendary_ , ‘til you went soft.”

“He’s exaggerating.”

Judy shrugs. “Don’t know. He seemed pretty nostalgic for the good ol’ days. Said you guys ran together a lot.”

“Finn’s a good guy,” Nick agrees, and Judy smiles.

“You can’t say a bad word about anyone, can you?”

He shrugs. “I try not to.”

“Not even about me?” The words tease, hang in front of him as she toys with the string of her tea bag, still seeping in hot water.

Nick swallows.

“Not even about you.”

 

* * *

 

It takes time, and it takes _patience_ – but he starts working out her story.

Her family’s farm went under when she was sixteen, and a year later she came to the city with a cousin.

“Beth got married six months later. Nice doctor from uptown, they have a good sized warren, considering it’s a city. Dozen kids so far.”

“Good grief.”

“Hey, my mom did better.”

Nick shakes his head. “How does that even…never mind.”

Judy laughs, rolls backwards on his couch and reaches for her phone. “Look.” She shows him a picture that’s bursting at the seams with rabbits of a dozen ages and sizes.

“Your family?”

“My family,” she says, almost carefully, like saying it too loud might cause them harm, even from two hundred miles away. “It’s been…something else.”

“All the money,” Nick realizes. “You send it home.”

“Mom needs it. Dad’s sick and he isn’t getting any better. Mom…works. So hard. If I could be home with her, we wouldn’t make enough for everyone, but here, it’s easy. The money from the florist goes to her, the rest I pick up for myself.”

“I could help you find a better job,” Nick insists, for the fifth or sixth time that month. Her expression clouds.

“I don’t need that, Wilde. I told you, there’s a system. The system works.”

He raises a brow. “You scrape. And you and I both know there’s barely enough left for you—”

Judy groans, falling back on the cushions. “Would you just _drop_ this, Nick?”

“I care about what happens to you. I care about _you_ —”

“Well, _don’t._ I don’t need it, didn’t before you and certainly don’t now—”

He isn’t thinking about it, really, when he pulls her up, and he isn’t thinking about it at all when their noses brush.

“Nick—”

“You matter,” he says, pressing this upon her like it might live in her, might take root in her and _grow._ “You matter to me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

He shakes his head, and they are so close, _so close_ –

“You should,” he says. “ _Always._ ”

A beat.

A kiss.

It takes root.

And it grows.

 

* * *

 

He should tell himself that falling in love with her is a mistake. She’s a known petty criminal with too much baggage and not enough answers. She should clean herself up, put her brains to good use in the ZPD or for crying out loud _something_ –

But she sells flowers and she’s happy and she sometimes hustles some idiot at the pool tables and Nick –

Well. Nick can’t bring himself to stop her. She’s _happy._

Happier that he’s been in a while.

Not since he joined the force, he won’t regret that part of his life. It was the right choice for _him._ He did it for himself, for his mother’s memory, and because it was good for him. Judy…would make a good cop. But he’s seen her wrap roses in brown paper and give them to someone on their anniversary. He’s seen her grown the _tiniest_ blooms, carefully pluck them and give them to the tiniest mouse.

He’s seen this, and it only makes him love her more.

“You’re such a gentleman,” she murmurs, paws sliding over his arms as she leans against the locked door of the florist’s shop. Nick towers over her some days, when she isn’t pushed up to her full height and her ears are down. And that’s alright. His tail loops around her hips and her paws find his.

“Can’t let a little thing like you walk home alone at night, ma’am.”

“Are you here to protect me officer?”

“With every bone in my body.”

She pulls a face. “Don’t be gross, Nicky.” But she pushes herself up onto her toes, kisses his cheek, and leads him down the road.

“I love you,” he says, later, when they are stretched out on his couch and watching nothing and only have eyes for each other.

“I shouldn’t love you,” she admits. “But you keep pulling the rug out from under me. It isn’t fair. I can’t get the jump on you.”

“It’s not about that.”

She pouts. “You always surprise me, but I never seem to surprise you.”

“You do,” he insists, and wraps his arms around her tighter. “Every day.”

 

* * *

 

Nick should have known that Bogo would sort it out. It’s been months since McHorn brought her in, but Judy doesn’t exactly manage to fly under the chief’s radar – not when she sometimes shows up outside HQ when his shift is over and tackles him and pushes flowers into his hands and passes off chocolates to Clawhauser.

“I trust,” Bogo says, “that you’re being careful with this.”

“She’s fine, sir. I promise that.”

“I’m not worried about _her._ ” Bogo looks over his glasses. “I’m worried about you.”

It’s probably the first and last time Nick will ever hear the Chief say that to him, so he takes it, puts it somewhere good, and gives him a smile.

“Judy’s not _bad_ , sir.”

“I know that. She’s a petty thief with nothing to lose. But I know where you come from.”

Nick feels the muscles in his neck tighten. “There isn’t a damn thing in this city that’s going to stop me from doing my job, sir.” They’ve talked this subject to death.

Nick is _tired_ of explaining himself.

Bogo sighs. “Frankly, Wilde, I know that.” Nick relaxes. _Oh._ “I worry, is all. Too much, probably. Maybe things will change. Maybe _you_ will be good for _her._ ”

“Judy’s good. She’s…she’s got more good in her than I’ve seen in anyone in a long while.”

“Perhaps,” Bogo concedes. “But it only takes a solitary mistake to take _all_ that good out of something.”

“It won’t happen to her, sir.”

“Well.” The Chief stands. The conversation is over. “I know it won’t happen on _your_ watch, Wilde. Just be careful, son. That’s all I ask.”

Nick nods and slides out of his chair. Judy isn’t waitig for him today, but he has a good feeling about where she’ll be. He sneaks into the shop, because there are some habits that just don’t die – and she’s there, tending the lilies in the back, humming to herself.

He watches, and she works.

When she sees him, she pretends to be surprised.

“ _Sneaky_ fox,” she murmurs, pressed close against him. She drops the watering can and laughs. “You feel tense. Everything alright?”

Nick holds her. “I love you,” he says.

Judy pulls back, expression soft as she cups his chin. “I know that, silly.” A kiss. “I love you, too.”

Nick feels his limbs relax, feels everything melt at the sound of her voice, and the way those words curl into him, like an embrace.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

It is unspoken between them that _home_ is simply wherever they are together.


	6. get on my level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please,” he says. “Please trust me. I know you do, and I know this isn’t you. It isn’t your fault. I’m gonna take care of you, Carrots.” 
> 
> She runs again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence; warnings for mild violence and language; emotional hurt/comfort
> 
> i've wanted to flip the "nick went savage" trope on its head for about a week now, and finally got the time to do it. enjoy~

He feels the push, and hears the _pop._ Soft, he thinks. Of course it would be, bursting against her neck. Everything about her is soft, why shouldn’t this be too and _where the hell is Bogo?_

“ _No!_ ” Bellweather snaps. “Stupid, _stupid_ bunny. Give me another, I need another—”

“We don’t _have_ another, that was the only one, the lab’s wrecked—”

“Well get _down_ there and finish them off—”

Nick stops listening. Judy twitches in his arms.

And then she _bites him._

“ _Ah!_ ” Nick pulls back, blood seeping from the wound. The rabbit at his feet looks _terrified_ , and he realizes, most definitely too late, that it _is_ different when a bunny goes savage.

To a predator, the whole world might look like prey.

But to prey…

Nick tries to comfort her. “Carrots. _Judy._ ” She draws back, retreats against the wall. “Hey, come on. Come on, it’s alright. You know me, you know who I am. It’s Nick, it’s your partner. Look, remember? I filled out the application, I got another one, I knew you were gonna come back, I swear I did—”

She flees from him.

Nick feels a vise clamp over his chest.

_She is afraid of him._

“Judy…”

The name doesn’t rouse her from this spell of the nighthowler. But he can hear sirens in the distance, and Bellweather’s getting more desperate and that’s alright. That’s just fine.

But he knows – when they get here, no one will be fast enough to catch her.

Except the one animal that always could.

“Please,” he says. “Please trust me. I know you do, and I know this isn’t _you_. It isn’t your fault. I’m gonna take care of you, Carrots.”

She runs again.

“ _Fox!_ ” Bogo hollers over the rim of the pit and Nick _shushes_ him. “Did you just—”

“She got _Judy_ ,” he snaps.

Bogo’s gaze finds the little thing cowering behind a plant, so unnatural in pants and shirt, and he pulls back. “That’s—”

“I’ll get her,” Nick says.

“No, I’ll get someone down there.”

“ _I will get her._ ” He turns away from the chief, figures he’ll deal with the consequences later, and puts his eyes on her.

She stares, ears back, nose twitching, pupils blown black with fear.

“Please,” he says. “Please let me help you. I won’t hurt you,” he says. “I will _never_ hurt you.” He reaches. She stays very still. “I…I don’t want to lose you. You changed everything, dummy, you know that? So just…let me hold you. Let me get you out of here. And we’ll find a way to fix this.”

In the end he has to grab her, and she squirms and squeaks in his grasp until someone has the heart to put her out, and she sleeps peacefully in his arms all the way to the hospital.

 

* * *

 

He watches, while they work on the antidote. She hops from one side of the room to the other. When she sees him, she hides under the bed.

It’s worse, he realizes, than the stupid repellent. And he supposes he should be grateful that it wasn’t him – but this…

He wonders if someone’s told her parents.

He wonders if _he_ should tell her parents.

He falls asleep in the plastic chair outside the window, and dreams of berries.

 

* * *

 

They tell Nick the antidote’s been working. They tell him she’s getting it in the morning, and Nick spends the entire night trying to figure out a way to tell her that he’s sorry and he’s stupid and he’s missed her and he loves –

No. Not that. That part’s…only a little relevant. It’s been…three days? He doesn’t _love_ Judy. He’s got a crush, that’s for sure. And he if lets it rest there, it’ll bloom. He knows that. Because he wasn’t lying when he told her – she’d changed everything, and he’d sort of like her to keep on doing it.

Maybe for forever.

But forever’s a long while from right _now_ , and right now he is watching the sun come up, and watching the hospital stir to life and watching the doctor and a nurse go into her room, get her into the bed, and administer the antidote.

She sleeps.

Nick sleeps.

He dreams that she’s come back to him.

 

* * *

 

Someone is banging on the window, and someone is _very angry._

“ _Get! Up! Right! Now!_ ”

Nick’s tail flicks up. He lifts his head, and the angriest, ruffled bunny in the entire world is looking at him. Her fur stands up in tufts and she looks _exhausted –_

But she’s _his_ , exactly the way he remembers her, and Nick charges into the room, tackles her to the bed –

“You’re _okay._ ”

“Of course I’m okay.”

“It was meant for me.”

“Nick, don’t do this.”

He pulls back. “You…no one’s _ever_ —”

She grins. “Being the first to do stuff is _sort of_ my thing, if you didn’t know.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly.

Judy chews her lip –

Kisses his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says.

Nick swallows. He has approximately three hundred things to say to her – _I think I’m falling in love with you, I filled out the stupid application, I lost the carrot pen in the museum, I think I called your parents in between bouts of sleep deprivation_ –

“You bit me,” he says.

Judy pushes him off. “I _what?_ ”

“That thing hit you, and you change and you _bit_ me, Carrots.” He wiggles the fingers on the paw they patched up when he got in with her. “Twinges a little, still.”

“ _Ugh_ , you would totally milk this,” she mutters.

Nick laughs. “I’ll go get the doctor, make sure you’re okay and I don’t have bunny-rabies.”

“It’s just _rabies_ , Nick. It’s not species specific.”

“You don’t _know_ that, Carrots.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Get me some jell-o, too. Green only.”

He bows. “At your service, m’lady.” Nick backs out of the room and closes the door behind him.

The secrets can wait a while.

His cheek still burns, and it’s a good feeling – she needs more than just his words today. She needs time and patience and green jell-o – all easy things to give her (except for the jell-o which is apparently blue on Tuesdays and did he even _know_ it was Tuesday) –

The three hundred things on the tip of his tongue roll back, and instead they eat blue jell-o in bed, rolling with laughter and _luck_ until the doctor comes to set her free.

Because they’ve got some time, yet, and Nick…

Well, Nick can hold out.

She’s not about to stop changing his life any time soon.


	7. comfort zones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the ZPD, the third Tuesday of every month is Civil Services Day. Nick pulls Junior Ranger Scout duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a request at disney-kink, [here](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/11667.html?thread=7181715#t7181715). warnings for flashbacks, discussions of prejudices.

At the ZPD, the third Tuesday of every month is Civil Services Day. Nick learns this on his first third Tuesday on the force, as Bogo drops a stack of assignments on the breakroom table, just before most of the officers in the building make a mad dash to secure the best one.

“ _Boom!_ ” Judy shakes her paper triumphantly. “Soup kitchen.”

“That sounds _terrible._ ”

“I’m fast,” she argues. “They love me.”

“I’ll just tag along,” Nick says, not looking up from his newspaper.

“No can-do, slick. You’ll have to comb through the leftovers and see if there’s another assignment. Otherwise, you’re probably stuck hosting movie night at the Senior Elk Center.”

Nick pulls a face and abandons the paper, sidling up to the table and scoping out what’s left. “Two,” he mutters.

“Gotta be fast,” Francine says from her spot in the corner.

“What’d you get?”

“Lifeguard training.”

Nick doesn’t want to know. He sighs and picks up the two sheets. Movie night is gone, miraculously. It’s between handing out water usage PSA’s and—

“ _Yoink._ ” Del Gato waltzes past and tugs the water usage assignment right out of Nick’s paw.

He growls. “ _Cat._ ”

“Fox.” The lion turns the sheet of paper over, inspecting his find. “You gotta be quick, like your bunny.”

“That’s what I said,” Judy insists. “Oh, water PSA’s. That’s a good one, I can’t believe it got passed up. Lucky you, Marcus.”

“Thanks.” He looks over at Nick’s haul and winces. “Scout duty. That’s a bummer. Those kids are monsters, they’ll take your baton if you’re not looking. Pickpockets in training.” He sighs. “Nabbing a good one’s all in the wrist.”

“Or lowering your standards,” Francine says.

Del Gato nods sagely. Nick’s mouth is strangely dry. “Try not to trip on that low bar,” he says, attempting to save face. The lion chuckles and heads out of the breakroom. Eventually Francine finishes her lunch and gives them a wave of her trunk as she heads back to her desk.

Judy puts a paw on Nick’s arm. “You want to trade?”

“No,” he says.

“We can. I could handle those kids, I helped raise fifty back home—”

“I’ve got this,” Nick says quietly.

Judy shakes her head. “You don’t have to. You don’t _have_ to ‘got this.’ You can admit it’s something you don’t want to do.”

“It’s fine.” He folds the assignment and slides it into his back pocket, giving her a quick grin. “Won’t be a problem.”

“Nick…”

“Don’t you have paperwork to hand in on that bank robbery?”

Judy’s ears pick up. “ _Peas and carrots!_ ” She dashes out and back to her desk, leaving Nick alone in the room, only his squared, folded assignment for company.

 

* * *

 

_“How’d it go?”_

_“Fine, mom.”_

_His expression seemed to give her pause, and she stopped drying a dish for a moment to watch him sulk through the apartment. “Nicky—”_

_“I’m really tired,” he murmured._

_“You want some cereal?”_

_“No, mama. I wanna go to bed.”_

 

* * *

 

Somewhere, in some abandoned thrift store bin, Nick knows his Junior Ranger Scouts uniform is waiting to find a home.

He’d donated it a few years back, after carrying it like extra weight, a reminder of something that he really _didn’t_ need to be reminded of.

He’s idling, now, in his car, watching the rangers file in, their little caps in their paws, scarves knotted smartly around their necks. Nick knows that none of the kids he used to scout with stuck around – but the _idea_ of it still burns him a little, singes his insides with a memory that isn’t allowed to be his.

Once upon a time, if things had been a little different, he’d have turned out to be a different fox.

But the world is a garbage bag, and it wants to put you in a landfill and forget about you – the world, Nick knows, doesn’t compost or recycle. It literally hates you, and wants to chew you up, regurgitate you, and pretend you can’t _feel._

Judy would be so _mad_ if she could see his thought process. She’s always talking about The Glass Half Full, and Silver Linings.

Nick would be waste deep in muck without her, honestly.

It’s four minutes before the meeting’s supposed to start, so Nick drains his coffee, tosses his shades into the passenger seat, and emerges from the cool space of his car to face the beast.

 _Melodrama_ , he can hear her say. _Don’t let these kids be the ones you remember._

“Why shouldn’t they be?” he murmurs.

_Because they made a bad choice, but a dozen other kids shouldn’t suffer through your bad attitude because of it._

“Fair enough,” Nick concedes, and shoulders his way through the double doors.

 

* * *

 

“ _Is it true you’re the first fox on the ZPD?_ ”

“It is.”

“ _Did you ever think it was gonna be really, really hard?_ ”

“All the time.”

“ _Did you ever wanna be a Ranger Scout?_ ” The little antelope practically quakes in his chair.

Nick swallows.

“Once,” he admits. “But it didn’t work out?”

A giraffe named Armand pipes up, “Why not?”

Nick breathes. As per usual, Judy’s right. These are great kids, and they deserve his honesty, his kindness, and all the patience he could muster.

“Sometimes,” he says, and very carefully, “being a fox makes wanting to be _other_ things really, _really_ hard.”

The giraffe shakes his head. “How come?”

“It’s…hard to explain.”

“You can,” the scout master says. “They’ll understand you.”

Nick nods. “Right. Sometimes…we think of certain animals…certain ways. It’s…called a stereotype.”

“A sturrotype.”

“No, a _stereo_ type.” Nick slides his paws out of his pockets – all the defenses are down. “It’s like…if you ate a bad bowl of cereal. You guys like cereal, right?” The kids murmur in agreement. “Okay. What if you had a bowl of cereal one morning that tasted _really_ gross, like _earwax_?” They laugh, and Nick feels a little bolder. “Would you want to have cereal the next day?”

“Ew, _no!_ ”

“Right. Sometimes people meet a fox, and that fox is…not nice. That fox doesn’t tell the truth. That fox makes up a story, or takes advantage of someone’s kindness. Pretty soon, you meet another fox who does the same thing. And then, maybe, you meet a fox who _doesn’t_ do that. But you think, hey. Every _other_ fox I know isn’t really all that good of a fox. Why should this fox be any different? Eventually, most folks just…see foxes that way.”

“My dad says foxes are shady.”

The scout master clicks his hooves. “ _Kyle!_ ”

“No, no, it’s okay. But…do I look shady?”

“Nuh-uh, you’re really cool!”

Nick nods. “Right. So maybe the next time you meet a fox, what might you think about them?”

“That they’re cool too, like you!”

He shrugs. “See? You get it.”

 

* * *

 

_“I’m not taking this back.”_

_“I’m not **going** back.”_

_“Nicky, you can’t let some bad kids stop you from still being a **good** fox—”_

_“I try all the time, and everyone thinks I’m a liar. I never lie!”_

_“And no one knows that better than me.”_

_“Mama, do people think of you like that?”_

_She nodded. “Sometimes.”_

_“That’s not fair.”_

_His mother sighed, kissing the top of his head. “Sometimes life’s not so fair, Nicky.”_

 

* * *

 

Judy rests her chin on his desk. “I heard your troop meeting was a success.”

“A rousing one.”

She smiles. “I’m really proud of you.”

“I _am_ impressive,” he agrees, reaching out and giving one of her ears a gentle tug. “You smell like soup.”

“That was _two days ago!_ ”

“A testament to its pungency? Or how little you shower?” Judy scrabbles at him, reaching to nab his pen and paper and toss it into the garbage. “Real smooth, Carrots.”

She laughs. “Hey, how about _next time_ , we nab an assignment together?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. I have a standing invitation to join the troop whenever they’d like me to.”

Judy straightens up. “And you’d…want that?”

Nick nods. “You were right. They’re good kids.”

She smiles, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “And they deserve to know a good fox.”

“I’ll be sure to introduce them to Finn _right_ off the bat.”

He deserves the pen she tosses at his ear a second later, but maybe not the kiss she plants on his cheek the moment after.

“You’re a _good fox_ ,” she says. “Everyone deserves to know you.”

Nick swallows – she goes back to her desk like nothing’s happened, and he’s left there with her words and the burn of her mouth on his cheek, like it’s just something they do, all the time.

He composes himself. “Thanks, Carrots.”

“Oh no, thank _you._ ” She climbs back into her chair. “It’s not every day I render the great Nicholas P. Wilde completely speechless.”


	8. best two out of three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only problem with cohabitating outside the workplace – leaving homegrown habits where they came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> answered for disney_kink. slight future fic, with lots of fluff. <3

It’s not really that it’s a secret – anyone with eyes could see it’s happening. But the thing about keeping residence during the day with officers and detectives and people who are _supposed_ to notice that this kind of thing is happening is – they don’t. Not for a long, _long_ time.

Well, Bogo sees it, but Judy knew there wasn’t any point in keeping things from him. And he doesn’t complain. They get their work done, no more or less conflict than any other partnership on the force. Frankly, their dynamic _works._ Judy’s known since she was a kid that her main tactic of approach was always _ready, fire, aim_. Nick’s…cautious. In a way that most folks wouldn’t think. He asks the right questions, knows the right people, and can always tell what someone’s thinking.

It’s why it made sense to live together, so soon after _being_ together. Nick knew Judy wanted it, that she was lonely, that she loved him, that she needed _someone._ And Nick knew those things about himself – so they made the change. The lonely part went away, but the love…well, that part was just starting to grow.

Only problem with cohabitating outside the workplace – leaving homegrown habits where they came from.

 

* * *

 

It’s a little thing – Judy knows precisely how her boyfriend takes his coffee. Francine notices.

“You buy Wilde coffee every day, Hopps.” She leans forward at her desk. “You know that’s not the way to a man’s heart.”

“Not really trying,” Judy says brightly, and gives the elephant a good wink. Francine is confused for _days_ , and Judy hopes beyond hope that Bogo has the heart to tell her what she’s missing. But the rumor grows, that Judy and Nick are, seriously, honestly – _just friends._

“Don’t believe it.” Fangmire leans back in his chair, flicking rubber bands at Judy’s desk. “You’re lying, Hopps.”

“I haven’t said anything,” she argues carefully. If they want to know so bad, they can figure it out on their own. Bogo said it was no one’s business but theirs, and if they wanted the others to know, then they should tell them.

“Otherwise, let my _detectives_ prove how good they are at sniffing out evidence right under their own _noses_ ,” he’d said, and looked a little too pleased with himself. Nick had been concerned.

“I think he was waiting for this,” he’d said, later. Judy had silently agreed.

Now, though, her partner is absent from his desk, stuck on stakeout duty with McHorn, texting her every thirty-four seconds. _Rhino close-up_ , the first twelve read, in varying forms, until it’s clear the rhino in question gets tired of hearing the click on Nick’s phone that he refuses to turn off, for that precise reason.

Fangmire flicks a rubber band at her phone. “Someone’s right _anxious_ to talk to you, Jude.”

“They’ll have to wait, I suppose. _Anyone_ can see I’m busy,” she says coolly. Fang grunts and takes his feet off his desk, getting back to his paperwork. Judy picks up her phone.

 **judy:** I think they’re catching on  
**nick:** fifty bucks they crack before Christmas  
**judy:** I’ll take that bet

 

* * *

 

Perhaps they _are_ catching on, or perhaps it’s becoming old news. Judy isn’t sure. What she knows is Francine stops asking, Fangmire stops interrogating (but he continues with the rubber bands and _seriously_ she’s amassing a collection), and McHorn still doesn’t care.

All in all, a successful hustle, in Nick’s book.

“It’s not a _hustle_ ,” she insists, coming to sit next to him on the couch.

“We _played them_ , Carrots. They’re gonna _freak_ when they find out.”

“If,” she corrects.

Nick snorts. “Nah, they’re gonna figure it out. Clawhauser knows.”

“You think so?”

“Totally. He’ll spill the beans in a month, maybe two.”

“Hmm.” Judy settles in under his arm, grasping her mug of tea and watching the weather report roll by on the bottom of the screen. Nick’s phone clicks incessantly in her ear, but it’s white noise until he says, “You want them to know, don’t you?”

“I’m very proud of you, and being your partner in more than one way makes me feel good.” She leans up and kisses his cheek. “I would _think_ you’d be proud as well.”

“Of you? Always.”

“No,” she insists. “Of yourself.”

“Carrots, I don’t need a pep talk tonight.” He pulls her in, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m feeling pretty good about life right now. Save the self-esteem boosts for my birthday.”

“One year older, one year _wiser_ ,” she sings, and has to lift her mug up and out of the way as he tackles her to the couch.

 

* * *

 

The even in question that blows their cover happens without thought. The one way the ZPD hasn’t changed to meet her needs is, well, _height requirements._ Judy is still hopelessly small, and that’s not changing anytime soon. Meanwhile, the staff lounge continues to be far too large to accommodate her. Everyone knows the bottom cabinets are hers, and while hopping would be a perfectly acceptable way to get to the hard-to-reach spots in her own apartment, it is not entirely feasible here.

Without more than a thought, she says what she always says at home when something is too high for her to reach –

“Nick. Upsies.”

All five officers in the room turn to look at them in unison. Nick doesn’t even bother looking up from his phone. He pushes his sunglasses toward his ears, reaches out with one hand, and grasps her by the collar of her uniform, lifting her off the ground. She gets the box of tea she’s had her eye on for a month now, and Nick carefully sets her back down at ground level.

Francine _trumpets._

“ _I knew it!_ ” she cries. “Oh, you sneaky critters.” She shakes her head, bellowing about lying little munchkins or whatever other slightly endearing nicknames she can come up for them in her slight bewilderment.

In the corner, Fangmire sniffs. “Knew it.”

“You did _not_ ,” Del Gato snaps. “You paid me thirty bucks last week to find out if Hopps was single so you could invite her to your dad’s barbeque.”

Nick’s ears… _twitch._ Judy notices.

“That’s…very nice,” she says, carefully. “But you’d have to bring nick.”

“Whatever.” Fangmire drains his cup. “You can both come, it doesn’t matter to me. Also, you owe me thirty bucks,” he says, dropping the empty cup in Del Gato’s lap. “ _You_ said she was _single._ ”

“My line of questioning _led me to believe_ —”

“What did you tell him?” Nick asks, turning a curious eye on her. Judy puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

She shrugs. “Actually, I didn’t answer any of his questions.”

Nick laughs, _loudly_. “ _Hah!_ If you needed thirty bucks so bad, cat, you should have just asked.”

“I just like stealing Fang’s money. It’s satisfying.” He tosses the cup in the trash. “Clawhauser’s gonna _freak_ , though _._ He had you guys pegged for, what, six months? He thinks it happened after Nick’s academy graduation.”

The two glance at one another quickly, then away.

Del Gato busts out laughing.

“ _Oh man!_ This means Bogo wins the betting pool! He said you’d been living together since, like, Judy _got_ here.”

“Well,” she says, trying to save face. “Not _that_ long, but—”

Del Gato laughs his way out of the breakroom, and the rest of the officers file out, looking varying degrees of smug or broke. Nick grins.

“This is _fantastic._ ”

“You’re a monster,” Judy mutters, climbing onto her little stool to make tea. “Honestly. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“I won’t say it again, Carrots.”

At this height, she’s just a hair taller than him, and he takes advantage of it to pull her down, just a bit, a kiss her.

“Yes,” she says. “I love you.”

He tips their foreheads together. “Never gets old, Carrots. Never gets old.”


	9. me and the moon and you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need a date to my sister's wedding."
> 
> "Huh. This looks like a job for _your boyfriend._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more meet the parent stuff. warnings for family discussions, emotions, and teeth-rotting fluff. 
> 
> who knew i was so capable?

“Honey, you’re going to make to Abby’s wedding, aren’t you?”

Judy shifts the phone to her other ear, trying in vain to talk to her mother and file evidence at the same time. “I RSVP’d, mom.”

“Well, so did your cousin Louis to the _last_ eleven weddings, and we both know how good at showing up _he_ is. It’s your father’s side of the family. They’re flaky.”

“I’m not going to flake on Abby’s wedding, mom.”

“Oh I know,” her mother says brightly. “She’s practically your twin. I mean, remember all those times we got you confused? Too cute.”

Judy sighs. “Adorable.”

She hears her mother shuffle through a few things, then make a noise. “You marked plus one.”

Judy freezes.

 _Nicholas P. Wilde_.

“Accident,” she says quickly.

“You can bring someone,” her mother coos. “That’s alright. You know we’ll have enough food—”

“Not necessary. Can I call you later?” she adds. “I’ve seriously got to get this case closed, and there’s a hundred other things for me to do today—”

“Oh, oh, yes sweetie, of course. You get back to work, I’m sorry to bug you.”

Judy sighs. “You never bug me, mom. I love you.”

“Love you too, honey. Talk soon.” The phone clicks off, and Judy slides her own into her back pocket with a sigh.

“She noticed the plus one then.”

“ _Ah!_ ” Judy jumps and turns, finding herself with her nose pressed against Nick’s chest. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“Are you keeping me a secret from your parents?” he asks, raising a brow. Judy knows that tone – that whole _see look I don’t care look at how much I don’t care I really seriously don’t care I’m Nick Wilde and I **just don’t care.**_

She winces.

Because he cares.

“…No,” she says.

“You are.”

“It’s not…a secret. My mom _knows_ I’m seeing someone.”

“Ah. She just doesn’t know _who._ Or what, I suppose.” He moves around her to reach for the box she’d just filed away. “You left this on your desk. And you should probably tell her, if you’re interested in continuing this.”

“Nick—”

“I don’t blame you,” he says quietly, leaning down and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I really don’t.”

“It’s really not what—”

“ _Hopps! Wilde! Bogo says you’re not allowed to canoodle in evidence!_ ”

“We are _having a conversation!_ ” Nick shouts back. “Shove _off_ , Fang!” He turns back to Judy. “Can’t get _five seconds_ of peace and quiet around here.” He pulls gently on one of her ears. “We’ll talk later?”

“I…yeah,” she says. “Later.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not like she _meant_ to keep him a secret. It’s not like she _wanted_ to hide him from her parents. It’s not like _tried_ to keep them from knowing.

It’s only…it happened that way. And Judy doesn’t really know how to fix it.

She’s figuring out that she’s awfully good at breaking things all by herself – _too much credit_ , she can hear Bogo saying, but whatever, what does he know about _this_ – but it takes…work. To make it better. And she just can’t see to do it on her own.

 _Isn’t that why you have Nick?_ a voice asks.

“Stop it,” she murmurs. She gets into the shower and bangs her head against the wall. “ _Stop it, stop it, stop it_ —”

 

* * *

 

“So I need a date to my sister’s wedding.”

Nick slurps his noodles. “ _Huh._ This looks like a job for your boyfriend, maybe. I hear he’s alright.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she warns, giving him a gentle shove. “You are _going_ with me, that’s fact.”

“Am I?”

“I’m going to call my mother and tell her so she can make sure everyone is ready.”

“For the fox.”

“ _For me having a boyfriend._ ” She tosses her carton of take-out onto the coffee table. “You are _missing_ the _point._ ”

“Doesn’t feel like I am. But I get it.”

She puts her hands up. “Okay, _yes_ , some of my family members will be put off and possibly freaked out. But they do not _matter._ What matters is that I love you, and my sister is getting married. Abby and I were…really close, when we were kids.”

“Not so much anymore?”

Judy shakes her head. “We wanted different things.”

“Happens.” He finishes his food and stretches out, resting his head in her lap. Judy puts her paw under his head without thought, strokes one of his ears carefully. “Head scratch?”

“You’re a child,” she mutters, but gives in all the same.

 

* * *

 

It takes another couple of days, but Nick…Nick is patient. Patient the way not a lot of people have been with her, and patient in a way that maybe she doesn’t deserve. Because she knows that this _hurts._ If it didn’t, he wouldn’t have said a thing about it, but Judy knows.

_I don’t care, really I don’t, look at me, I’m Nick Wilde and I just don’t care—_

But he does, and he’s hurt, and she can fix this.

She’s just not as brave as she wishes she were.

Her parents pick up on three rings. Judy turns on the camera and sees their faces.

“ _Jude!_ ” Her dad’s voice fills the speaker and his face expands in the frame.

“Stu, honey, she doesn’t need to talk to your _teeth_. Hi, honey.”

“Hey, mom.”

Her mother frowns. “You’re acting sad.”

“I’m _not_ sad, mom.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she insists. “It’s…fine. It’s all…” Judy sighs. “No,” she admits. “It’s not.”

Her father’s face fills the screen again. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“I…haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“Okay.” Her mother’s patient voice is…a comfort. Judy’s confidence blooms a little.

“I’m bringing someone to Abby’s wedding,” she says. “My boyfriend.”

“ _I knew it!_ ” he father crows. “I absolutely knew it, Bon, didn’t I tell you I knew it—”

“You didn’t,” her mother says coolly. “But that’s alright. Honey, you could have told us.”

“I’m dating a fox,” she blurts out.

The line goes…very quiet. Her parents’ faces freeze.

“You’re dating…what’d you say?”

“A fox, his name is Nick, he’s my partner on the force, and I… _ugh_ , I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t say something—”

“Judy.” Her mother’s voice become sharp, sharper than she’s ever heard it before. “Did you keep this from us because you thought we wouldn’t approve?”

“I thought people might…might be upset.” She sighs. “I thought _you_ might be upset. I mean, working with Gideon is one thing, but—”

“Who’s Gideon?”

Judy _jumps_ , and he’s _right there,_ standing behind her and looking _smug_ and pleased with himself –

 _I care_ , his face says. _I care, I really, really care, my name is Nick Wilde and I care a whole lot._

“Hi there,” he says. “Nick Wilde.”

“Oh!” Her mother leans in closer. “Oh, Stu look at that. _Stu_ , get off the floor.”

“Is that him? Can he hear us?”

“Sure can, Mr. Hopps.”

“Well isn’t that something.”

Her mother wags her fingers. “You’re _Nick_ ,” she says.

“I am,” he says, and snatches the phone from Judy’s hands.

“ _Give that back!_ ” Judy cries, scrabbling for it.

“Short rabbit,” he says. “I’m _trying_ to have a conversation with your parents.”

 

* * *

 

“See?” he says later. “Not so bad.”

“I’m worried about you texting my mother.”

“She promised to send me the recipe for your favorite salad. How great is _that?_ ”

“Please stop.”

“No,” he says, and wraps his stupid octopus arms around her, holding her close. Judy learned right from the start that Nick _liked_ contact, that he craved it and used it to reassure them both that everything was going to be alright.

_I care. See? See how much I care?_

“Nick?”

“Hmm.”

“Are you angry?”

He sighs, sitting up on his elbow and reaching up to run his paw over her head. “No,” he says. “And I never was.”

“But I hurt you.”

He shrugs.

“ _Nick._ ”

“ _Fine_ , Carrots. Yes. My feelings got hurt. But I’m better now, and I have incriminating childhood photos of you.”

“ _It’s been two hours!_ How did she send those so fast?”

“She’s on her A-game, these are _stellar._ ”

“I _will_ pay Hoofer in tech to crack your phone, Wilde.”

He snorts. “You love it.” He wraps his arms around her again. “And me,” he says. “You love _me._ ”

“The very most,” she agrees, and lets herself be wrapped and wrapped and _wrapped_ , held close and made into a reassurance.

_I care, and we are okay._

_I care, and everything is going to be just fine._

_I care –_

_And I love you._


	10. wake up from this sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Nick's no good at commitment and Judy's a little slow on the uptake - it takes them a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love confessions, sad nick, smooches. age difference also.

She is standing in the middle of his living room, and they are both breathing _too loud._

“You…what?”

Nick growls, reaching up to tug on his ears as he paces a hole in the floor. “Nothing, forget it. It’s _nothing._ ”

“You said you loved me,” she says, pointing. “ _You said_ —”

He scowls. “Like you didn’t know.”

“I…I didn’t,” she says. “Nick, I swear, I didn’t know—”

“That’s convenient,” he murmurs, hands sliding into his pockets. “Doesn’t matter. Hasn’t mattered, all these years.”

“ _Years?_ ” Judy throws her head back. “You’ve felt this way for _years_ , and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Do you know _how hard_ it is to talk to you sometimes?” Nick laughs. “You go a mile a minute, you never stop, you never flinch. And you expect me to stop you, stand in front of you and say, _hey, I love you?_ ” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Judy, I’m almost _forty._ ”

“So?”

“You’re young.”

“So are you.”

He gives her a wry smile. “Doesn’t feel that way. Hasn’t felt that way for a long time.”

“Nick, you know I don’t care about those things.”

“Well I do. I care. I care about how people see you, who people see you with.”

She frowns. “You think they’ll…they’ll look at me different. If we’re together.”

“They always would have,” he insists. “I always would have been too old for you, too much your opposite.” He shrugs. “Like I said, doesn’t matter now.”

“Nick…”

“I think you should go,” he says. “Just…before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Judy blinks, brushing tears off her cheeks. “How is any of this ugly?” she demands. “You _love_ me. Isn’t that…it’s supposed to be something—”

“Beautiful?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Doesn’t always have to be. Doesn’t always _get_ to be.”

“You are not ugly, Nick. I am _not ashamed of you_ —”

“Judy, _go._ ”

“No, I _won’t._ I won’t, not until you take it back.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“ _But I love you_ ,” she pleads. Her paws come up and cover her mouth, and the pain that shoots through her is so _real_ , she wants to scream. “Nick, please—”

He stares. “…Judy.”

“I do,” she says. “I have, I have for so long. I just…I _can’t_ stop, and I can’t sort through it all, I can’t make it stop.” She tries to step closer to him, but he steps back. “Nick, don’t do this.”

His eyes are a little wide, mouth twisted into something Judy can’t name.

“I don’t want to suffer,” she says, “just because I couldn’t figure this out.” She tries stepping closer again. He stays still, this time, and she can finally touch him. Can finally—

She doesn’t like the trope, doesn’t understand it, but –

_It takes her breath away._

“Nick—”

“Stop talking,” he says. “Stop. I’ve waited _six years_ to touch you, to tell you this, so stop talking and stop thinking and just—”

“Kiss me. _Nick_ —”

“Dumb bunny,” he murmurs, over and over again, backing her towards the couch and running his paws up her sides. “I love you, I have loved you, how could you _miss it_ —”

“You didn’t know either, you didn’t know what I felt—”

“Say it again,” he murmurs. “Please, just—”

Judy gasps as he kisses her neck. “I love you,” she says. “Nick, I love you—”

“ _Judy._ ”

 

* * *

 

They lay, after, a mess of fur and haphazard touches, in his bed, her paws in his, so _small_ in his –

“You’re tiny,” he murmurs.

“Bunny,” she says.

“Mmm.” He leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

She presses closer to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t see.”

“Agree to try and be less of a collective _mess_ from here on out?”

“Agreed,” she says, grinning.

“I mean, I can’t promise not to be a mess over you for a little bit longer, but—” Judy cuts him off with another kiss.

“Be a mess,” she murmurs. “Because I’m not stopping any time soon.”

“Meant to be,” he says, sinking lower into his pillow and trapping her against his chest.

“Meant to be,” she agrees.

_Meant to be._


	11. you and me in the backyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So this is…good, then?”
> 
> Nick looks over at her, and trio of fireworks bursts overhead, sparks and flares reflected in his eyes. Judy…swoons, a little.
> 
> “Yeah, Carrots.” He kisses the top of her head. “It’s been good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy easter! i literally don't know how any holidays fit into this 'verse, but i couldn't resist the idea of bunnies celebrating easter, and nick getting to be a part of that. thank you to adrieunor for the idea/inspiration. <3 this is directly related to my fic "[wherever i'm with you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6312550)" and technically takes place some time after that.

She slips out of the living room where they made camp the night before well past midnight, and quietly dresses. It’s four AM – too early for her fox, but prime time for the Hopps. Her mother is stirring potatoes in five different skillets, her grandmother setting the table for breakfast.

“There she is.” Her mother beckons her, and Judy ducks into her embrace. “When did you kids get in?”

“ _Late_ ,” she whines. “The train got delayed three hours.”

“Easter weekend,” her grandmother chides. “You should have planned better.”

Judy huffs, grabbing a piece of toast from its plate. “You sound like _Nick_ ,” she mutters. “ _We should have left yesterday, Judy, we should have left in the morning, Judy._ ” She sinks into her chair. “Where’s pop-pop?”

“In the barn with your father. We put the girls in charge of hiding the eggs, if you want to help.”

Judy nods, shoving the rest of the toast into her mouth. “Don’t wake up Nick, he’s not—”

“ _About_ to miss this amazing breakfast.” He slips into the kitchen, one paw brushing her shoulders as he grins at her mother. “Mrs. H, are those _potatoes?_ Judy probably hasn’t told you, but I really _love_ potatoes.”

“Of course you do,” her mother says fondly, and gives him a plate piled high. “You’re too skinny. I keep telling him,” she says, and Gramma Ruth clucks her tongue, coming forward to tug on his shirt. “Isn’t he too skinny?”

“You eat up.” Gramma Ruth gives him the once-over. “Judith, are you starving him?”

“Yeah, _Judith._ ” Nick puts a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“I’m not having this conversation,” Judy says, paws in the air. “You ladies enjoy your potatoes.”

“ _Offense_ ,” Nick calls after her. But she’s smiling, tugging on her jacket as she bounds into the yard to help her older sisters hide the eggs.

 

* * *

 

Easter at the Hopps house is…kind of a big deal. It started that way when she was a little girl, and the number of cousins and sisters and brothers kept growing, and traveling was getting harder – so they made the meeting place Bonnie and Stu’s, and nothing’s really changed since then.

 _Well_ , Judy thinks, looking out the kitchen window and watching Nick lose race after race across the yard to her younger siblings – _some things have changed._

“He’s so good with them.” Gramma Barb comes up next to her, taking a rag and drying the breakfast plates. “Not every day you meet a nice fella who’s good with the young ones.”

“He’s a big kid inside,” Judy explains.

“He’d be a good dad.”

There’s nothing to choke on but the air in her own lungs, and Judy _coughs_ , hard, into the bubbles.

“ _Gramma._ ”

“I’m just _saying._ ”

“Nick and I are…taking it slow.” She vigorously scrubs a spot of food from a plate. “We are _not_ talking about…about _that._ ” And on _cue_ , because he has _infuriatingly_ good timing – Nick looks up, catches her eye, and winks.

 _Stop it, stop it, stop it_ —

“See? That’s a catch, right there.”

“Thank you, gramma.”

“You aren’t getting any younger, Jude.”

“ _Thank you, gramma._ ”

“It’s just an observation.” Gramma Barba pats her arm and leaves her with the rest of the dishes. Judy sighs, shaking her head and setting the cups onto the rack to dry.

“She’s not giving you a hard time, is she?” Her dad comes into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. “You just remind her that her mother thought she was an old lady by she got hitched.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Besides.” He gestures out the window. “Why put pressure on a good thing?”

“ _Exactly!_ ” Judy yanks her hands out of the water, sending soap flying.

“Careful, Judester.” He chuckles and pats her shoulder. “She just wants you to keep being happy. We all do.”

Judy nods. When she’s finally finished, most everyone has come inside – the egg hunt is just starting, so the kids are preoccupied outside with a few of the older ones. Judy finds Nick in the living room, wedged between her Grampa Joe and Grampa Eugene, who are having an extremely loud conversation about who had gotten married first, Bonnie or her brother BJ (it was BJ, her aunt insists, but no one can _hear_ her) – and Nick is just…there, sipping on an Arnold Palmer, nodding sagely as they belabor the issue between them.

“You both make very good points,” he says, _loudly_ , and takes a delicate sip of his drink. Judy smiles, leaning against the wall and taking the iced tea her mother hands her.

The front door swings open, and a troop of her siblings, mingled with her cousins, spills into the house.

“ _Pop-pop!_ ” Maple’s eyes are wide, looking around. “ _We found them all!_ ”

Grampa Joe heaves himself off the couch, and Judy watches Nick relax, but still held prisoner by the now laser-focused gaze of Grampa Eugene. She sends him a signal, and he catches it.

_Do you need me?_

A gentle shake of his head. _This is fine._

“Eugene, leave the boy alone.” Great-Aunt Marcy comes in to scold her brother, but Grampa Eugene insists that Nick hasn’t heard the story about the raid of ’44 that woke all the boys in the barracks up at three AM (he has, twice today, but he is too damn _nice_ to say he hasn’t, Judy knows).

Marcy takes Nick by the elbow and leads him away. Grampa Eugene pouts.

“You don’t let that old codger take up your whole day.”

“Oh, it’s all good, Aunt Marcy.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze. “I never got to hear war stories as a kid.”

“Your grandad wasn’t in the service?”

Nick shrugs. “He may have been. I didn’t know him.” Marcy’s lip wobbles. Nick looks panicked. He’d told her after their last trip he wanted to avoid making the women in her family cry, so Judy steps in, links their arms together and says, “ _Nick_ loved those blackberries you sent us over the winter, Aunt Marcy.”

The lip wobbling stops. “ _Did you?_ That’s so nice. They do so well in the garden. Do you two have room for a garden? It’s just so _nice_ to have a green space in between all that gray of the city.”

“Actually we _do_ have room,” Nick says. “And I wanted to ask you about that. Can I grow them on the balcony, because we really do get great sun out there—” He lets go of Judy and walks with Aunt Marcy outside to inspect the fruit growing under the kitchen window. Judy relaxes, and wonders if anyone would notice if something stronger found its way into her tea.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Nick and her brothers get dragged out by the kids into the yard to set up fireworks. It’s not a usual Easter tradition, but Brian brought them in from Cottonswap, and the kids are all worked up about seeing a few sparkles. The sun goes down on a pretty picture – some of the kids running in zigzags across the yard, sparklers in hand. Gramma Ruth pours coffee and her mother passes around pie and cake. Nick and her brother Oscar shout triumphantly as their haphazardly built firework launch pad stands up to its first contender.

He finds his way to her, sliding into their shared lawn chair and picking at her dessert.

“Get your own, slick.”

“You won’t finish yours.”

“True.” She passes him the plate, lets him have a sip of her coffee. “Good day?” she asks.

“Good day,” he agrees. “You know this is my first all-day Easter extravaganza.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My mom and I used to color eggs, and she’d take us out for brunch somewhere, but that was about it. Not a big day for us.”

“So this is…good, then?”

Nick looks over at her, and trio of fireworks bursts overhead, sparks and flares reflected in his eyes. Judy…swoons, a little.

“Yeah, Carrots.” He kisses the top of her head. “It’s been good.”


	12. le weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needs her to know - he's always got her back. Even during the weekend from hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for sickness, mentions of illness and discussions of a parent/minor character death. meeting the family under not-so-great conditions. 
> 
> also wanted to say thanks for your great responses - and i appreciate the prompts, always, but as of right now i won't be accepting or filling any prompts here. i have a to-do list a mile high, and while i appreciate the spontaneous slew, unfortunately i just don't have the time to get to them right now. but i have saved them for a rainy day!~

This isn’t how Nick imagined meeting Judy’s parents for the first time – but she’s a mess, and getting her on the train was hard enough. The ticket he bought is so last minute he has to negotiate his way up from the coach car, but Judy’s somber expression and general need to be held up by both his paws is enough to convince the old sheep punching tickets that Nick needs to be with her.

So. He’s with her.

“This isn’t how I imagined it,” she echoes, and Nick nods. “You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t meet them this way.”

“You need me,” he says. “So we’ll do this together.”

She looks up at him through her lashes, eyes not quite as bright as he’s used to. “Nick…”

“We take care of each other, Carrots. That’s how it goes.”

“But this is big.”

He nods. “It is.”

“Like…like _really_ big.”

“Judy?”

“Hmm?”

“Get some sleep, okay?”

She nods, leaning against him in the seat and closing her eyes. In a moment, she’s gone, and Nick can finally relax and look out the window as the scenery rushes by.

It _is_ big, he thinks. But, then, everything they seem to do together is the same way. So, yeah. He _will_ do this with her, because there’s a precedent, he realizes. An already established habit of going all the way for one another.

He’ll come home with her, and help her say goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Her father’s been sick for a while.

Not as long as she’s known Nick. When Judy had come to the city, she said he’d been fine. If anything had been wrong with her father then, no one had said anything. Nick’s pretty sure no one will tell her if he was _now._ That would be cruel and unusual.

They step off the train, Nick carrying both their bags. Judy’s recovered some thanks to her nap, but her posture droops, her ears hang down. Her brother Oscar is there to meet them, and he doesn’t look all that surprised to see Nick. He expresses his sister’s concern.

“Real shame to meet the folks this way, Nicky.”

Judy has fallen asleep again in the seat between them. Nick puts an arm around her.

“She shouldn't have to do this alone.”

Oscar looks over quickly, and Nick expects a snappy diatribe about how rabbits can’t really _be_ alone, not with all the brothers and sisters and every other sort.

Instead: “That’s real good of you,” he says. “We could all use some of that.” He keeps his gaze on the road ahead, and Nick swallows thickly. He does not have the energy or strength to be the emotional support system for two hundred plus bunnies this weekend. He has barely enough to be there for _one_ of them.

“You deserve my best,” he says anyway, because he is, at heart, a masochist.

When Oscar pulls into the driveway, a couple dozen rabbits rush out to meet them. A few of the smaller ones give Nick the once-over, but Judy’s older siblings seem unfazed.

Maybe it has something to do with the _fox_ having coffee at their kitchen table, Nick isn’t sure.

Judy’s awake now, and her expression softens as she enters the room. “ _Gideon._ ”

“Aw, hey, Judy.” He stands and wraps her in a quick hug. “I’m real sorry about your pa. Here, lemme help—” He freezes when he spots Nick, and Nick can _see_ the gears turning in his head.

“This is my boyfriend,” Judy says quickly. “This is Nick. Nick, this is Gideon. We were kids together.”

Gideon’s mouth spreads in a warm grin, and Nick can’t help but smile back. “I sure didn’t know what to expect when your mama said who you were bringin’. Nice to meet you, Nick. Come on, I’ll help you two with your bags. Give these folks a break.”

“Gid, we’ve got it—”

“Nah, Ruthie, you sit tight. I’ll get ‘em to the room you told me about.” Gideon picks up their things and leads them up two flights of stairs to the end of a long hall and a small, crunched bedroom with a single bed. “Real cozy.”

“Thanks, Gid.” Judy squeezes his paw and pulls Nick into the room after her.

“You two rest up. Everyone’ll be here when you come back downstairs.” He gives them a little wave and closes the door.

Alone, behind layers of wall and above layers floor – Judy collapses.

And she cries.

“Judy…”

“I’m so _mad_ that this is how you have to meet everyone. I’m so _angry_ with myself!”

“Hey, why? Why would you think that?”

“Because we could have done this months ago, but I was too much of a coward. I was too worried that no one would be ready, and we just _show up_ and everyone is _fine!_ We could have been here when it was _beautiful_ , Nick. When my dad was fine and healthy and happy. We could have been so _happy_ and now look at us. _Look at me!_ ” She hiccups and sobs at once, and Nick wishes the moment were light enough to tell her how adorable she is when she cries.

But she isn’t, here. She’s broken and sad and angry. And Nick understands.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s _not._ ” She wipes her nose. “It’s the worst.”

“Yeah, it sort of is.”

Judy sniffs. “Can we go to sleep?”

“Absolutely.”

“I just…I want to sleep, and then I want to figure out what to do next.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll see my dad. Someone will get us if…if—”

“I know.” Nick crawls into bed after her, tucking her back close to his chest and bringing his tail up to curl around them both. The tip of it almost reaches his forehead. “Hey, Carrots?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he says. “And I know it sucks to be here this way, but…I’m glad we are. I’m glad to be here for you.”

She huffs a little laugh. “You’re so _good._ ”

“You deserve all the good I have,” he says, and strokes his paws over her arms until he hears her breathing even out, and they both finally fall into a fitful slumber.

 

* * *

 

Nick wakes and Judy is shaking him. Or the other way around.

“ _Get up._ ”

“What? What happened?”

“We slept too much, we should go downstairs.”

“I’m _tired._ ”

She shakes him, _hard_ , and he topples out of bed. “Uh, _ow._ ”

Judy sighs and helps him up, going to the door. “We need to go see everyone, we need to see my dad.”

“Okay.” He squeezes her paw in his. “Let’s go.”

They head down the stairs very carefully, but find the house mostly empty. Oscar tells them most everyone’s gone home, but there’s food on the stove if they want it.

“Mom’s talking to the doctor. He came by the check.”

“How’s it looking?”

Oscar sighs. “It’s…looking like you picked the right weekend to come home, Jude.”

She presses her lips together. “Oh.”

Nick clears his throat. “How about we go see him, and then we’ll think about eating, yeah?”

Judy turns to him, and if there are things she wants to say, she doesn’t. She only looks up, expression grateful as she takes both his paws in her own. “Alright.” She turns and leads him down the hall. The doctor passes them and nods as he goes. They walk until Judy stops in front of a large set of white double doors, bordered in yellow trim. “This was always their room. Mom said he…didn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Can you just go in?”

“Yeah.” Judy turns the handle, easing the door open and stepping inside.

It smells…medicinal. A humidifier runs in the corner, the blinds only half open so Stu Hopps can rest. Judy makes a soft noise, and her mother stirs by his bedside.

“Oh, _there_ she is.” Bonnie gets up and cross the room to them both. “And Nick. Oh, _Nick._ ” She wraps her arms around them, holding them close. “He’ll be so happy, Jude. So happy.” She takes her daughter’s paw and leads her to the bed, bending down close to her husband’s ear. “Stu, honey. Judy’s come to see you. Judy and Nick.”

Stu makes a noise and moves, paw coming up to grope for his daughter’s cheek. “Jude?”

“Hey, dad.”

“Aw, Jude.” His paw trails up and he gives her ear a little nudge. “You made it.”

“I did. I came to see you.”

Stu nods. “Good place to say goodbye.”

“Dad, don’t talk like that.”

“I will,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll talk however I want, I’ve worked hard enough for it. I’m sick enough for—” He goes into a coughing fit, and when he looks up, he finally sees Nick hanging back by the door. “That him?”

“Yeah. That’s Nick.”

C’mere, son.” He waves him over and Nick nods, closing the distance between them. “Real good of you to come all this way for Judy.”

“Nowhere’s too far,” Nick says, but he isn’t sure if Stu’s heard him. He starts coughing again, and they wait for several moments while Bonnie gives him a puff from an emergency inhaler and helps calm his breathing.

“That’s better,” he says. “Now, tell me everything going on in the city.”

 

* * *

 

They talk for an hour or more. By the end, Stu is nodding off and, frankly, so is Nick. They retreat back to their little room, curled up under the sheets with the window open.

“I miss the city noises,” Judy murmurs. “But I love these just as much.”

“Wildlife,” Nick muses. “ _Nature._ ”

“I know. Your mortal enemy.”

He sighs. “The places I go for you, Hopps. The feats I manage.”

Judy turns over to face him, paw coming up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t have to come here, and you did.”

“I love you.”

“And I love _you._ But that doesn’t mean we have to go everywhere for one another, or do all of these things.”

“It does for me.”

Judy nods. “Then it does for me, too. I’ll go wherever you need me to, because I know you’ll always be ready to go there for me.”

“Naturally.”

“Nick.”

“Hey, I’m allowed  a play on words here and there. It keeps the mood light.”

Judy laughs, stroking her paw down and over his neck. “He’ll probably…probably go, this weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll need to come back. For services and everything. You’ll…you’ll do that with me, won’t you?”

“Judith Hopps, I will do absolutely anything for you. Except for eat kale.”

“It tastes _fine_ ,” she murmurs, stifling a yawn and closing her eyes. “Jus’ put it in a smoothie…” Her voice trails off as she falls asleep on his chest. Nick sighs, bringing her in close and giving her a squeeze.

He loves this bunny, and he _will_ do anything for her, whether she asks or not.

He’ll mourn with her, and love with her, because she’s earned it, and because he _wants_ to.

Doesn’t matter that this is the weekend from hell – Nick doesn’t care.

He needs her to know –

To know that he’s _always_ got her back, and nothing the world can throw at them is going to stop that.


	13. enrichment exercises [college au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Wilde assigns a two page paper the second week of class, and Judy Hopps gets a C-minus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the college au. i'll be dabbling in it from time to time, but i don't really have enough of a story to make it into something larger, so just expect to see me playing in the sandbox occasionally. 
> 
> sfw, not shippy (yet)

It’s her first day at university, and it’s _raining._ Judy looks down at her perfectly ironed soft blue blouse, the delicate trim starched and pressed, and sucks it up. She thinks longingly of her brand new umbrella back in her dorm room, a gift from Aunt Agnes, and keeps going. It’s the first day and it’s raining, but she’s ready. She’s prepared. She –

 _Steps_ , right into a puddle up to her ankles, and sloshes her way to her first class. When she arrives, five minutes late, she hopes beyond hope the professor hasn’t started yet, perhaps allowing time for new freshman to arrive, perhaps still fighting through the rain on their own, perhaps –

“You’re late,” says the fox at the board, and turns to look at her. “By almost six minutes.”

Judy balks. “I…it’s raining, sir.”

“Everyone else is here on time,” he says. The door bursts open behind Judy anyway, and a cheetah, soaked to the bone and heaving says: “ _I’m here!_ ” He stumbles, and Judy does her best to catch him, but to no avail. He slumps into a seat and beams. “Clawhauser, sir.”

The fox’s ear twitches. “If you’d been present and accounted for five minutes ago, you’d know there’s no _sir_ in this room. It’s Mr. Wilde, Nick, or just Wilde. Whichever you prefer.”

“Um, Mr. Wilde—”

“You must be Judith Hopps.”

She smiles. “It’s Judy, sir. I just want to apologize for my tardiness, but the rain—”

“Isn’t an excuse, Miss Hopps. Find a seat and dry up. We’re working today. You can read the syllabus online.”

 

* * *

 

Judy’s always thought of herself as a perfectly fine writer. She isn’t in school to study that in the first place – she’s a criminal justice major, if you please – but she’s always considered her work perfectly acceptable.

Nick Wilde assigns a two page paper the second week of class, and Judy Hopps gets a C-minus.

“Sir—”

“Hopps, we talked about this.”

Judy sighs. “Mr. Wilde.”

He looks up, smiling. “Yes?”

“I…wanted to talk to you about my paper.”

He nods. “It was fine.”

“But you gave me a C.”

“I did. Like I said. It was fine.”

Judy shakes her head. “If it’s _fine_ then why doesn’t it have a grade reflecting that sentiment?”

Nick sighs. “Miss Hopps, you know a C is _passing_ , right?”

Judy puts the paper on the table. “I do not get C’s, Mr. Wilde.”

He shrugs. “I guess now you do.” He pulls his bag over his shoulder. “Read the notes, Judith. It should help.”

Fuming, she leaves the class before either can say another word – snarky and regrettable, respectively – and takes the stairs two at a time, practically stomping her way back to her dorm. She got lucky and got the single, got it paid for by her scholarship – so it’s good that no one can see her rage for fifteen minutes and tug on her ears until she finally sits down at her desk and reads his notes.

_This is fine._

_This point is boring._

_Topic sentences need work._

_I already know you’re smarter than this, Judith. I expect something better next time._

 

* * *

 

And so, the next time, she gets a C-plus.

“See?” he says, passing back her paper. “I told you the notes would help.”

“You mean your notes that basically said _do better_?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, they were very constructive,” she mutters, turning the paper over to inspect his newest decimation of her work.

“Well obviously,” he says, and goes back to his desk.

She sighs, peering down at the little scribble of notes on the back page:

_There’s something here. Run with it, Hopps._

 

* * *

 

She sits at her computer, staring hard at the blinking line on the screen in front of her. This _has_ to be better. This _needs_ to be better. It’s not just about getting the grade anymore, it’s about proving him wrong.

Or, right, she thinks. Considering he keeps putting so much stock in her hypothetical abilities.

 _There’s something here_ , he’d written, but Judy doesn’t know what.

 _Run with it_ , he’d told her, but Judy doesn’t know _where._

“Run with it, Hopps,” she says to herself. “There’s something here, _something here._ ”

 

* * *

 

“Look at you,” he says quietly, pressing her paper into her paws carefully, almost reverently.

_B-plus._

“Skipped all the way up. Looks like I’m better at this than you thought.”

“You mean _I’m_ better than I thought.”

“Same thing.” He goes back to the front of the class, and Judy opens the paper to the last page, searching for his note.

_This has energy, and it’s the first time you’ve left me wanting more. You’re getting there, Judy._

_You’re definitely getting there._

She looks up, but he already has his back to the class, writing their reading assignment for the week in his tidy scrawl at the top of the white board.

Her paper trembles, just for a moment, in her hand, before she slides it carefully into her English binder, the note still facing out, his words burning their place in her brain.


	14. point it home [musician au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Skulks play every Wednesday night at a dive bar downtown. Some ukulele playing, lyric humming bunny plays right after their set at the bar across the street. Nick is definitely not watching. He’s definitely not interested. Not even a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of smooching and confident!judy + nervous+nick <3

_If you’re a young gun waiting to go off/Take aim and fire/If you’re locked up inside, ready to explode/Take aim and fire_ – “Take Aim  & Fire”, GG Allin

 

* * *

 

The Skulks play every Wednesday night at a dive called Buck’s right off the city center. They play right around the time the bartender starts handing out penny shots, so by the end of their set, everyone’s twice as drunk as they were when the band started, and frankly, anything that has some kind of beat sounds enough like music to get these guys excited.

Sometimes people drunk-buy their LP, and sometimes they throw up on Nick’s shoes. Depends on what kind of night it is.

After, everyone goes their separate ways. They make music together, but beyond the little bit of business Nick and Finn have done, and the time he and Donnie were roommates, they aren’t really friends. So Nick doesn’t catch near as much hell as he could for going across the street every night after their show, getting a vodka soda, and watching _her_ take the stage.

Her style isn’t his at all. She’s soft, in every way – she’s a bunny, what else is she supposed to be – from the quiet little guitar she plays, to the lovelorn, delicate lyrics that she’s obviously crafted with care and patience. She gets a good crowd most nights, and she’s got dry sense of humor. Her stage name is “Judith,” but she always says, “No pressure, you guys can call me Judy.”

Nick takes a sip from his drink, and every time she plays, he falls a little bit in love.

 

* * *

 

Brasco calls out sick one night, and someone else plays their set. Finn’s fuming at the bar, but Nick keeps thinking about the stage across the street, throwing glances toward the door and wonder when he could make his exit.

Finn snorts. “You wanna go next door and make eyes at the rabbit, be my guest.”

“Shut up.”

“I know where you go. No judgment here.”

“I’m judging,” Donnie says, but Donnie’s had five beers and two shots, so no one is really listening.

“I’ll come back later.”

“Don’t,” Finn says. “Get lucky instead.”

Nick grins and backs out onto the street, weaving through red light traffic and slipping in with a crowd of college kids heading into the bar. The stage is empty still, he’s twenty minutes early, but if she’s anything like him, she’s backstage going over her set list one more time, making sure her instrument is tuned and her voice is on key.

He knows a few of the bears blocking the way backstage, and they let him by. He knows everyone, really, especially the folks in the music industry downtown. It’s slow, local, and has never produced anything like Gazelle – but it’s _home_ , down to the barest bones of the words they sing, and Nick wouldn’t have it any other way.

He finds her, though, exactly how he thought he might, stooped over her notebook, making a few changes and muttering to herself.

“Judy?”

She starts, dropping her pen and book and nearly tumbling off the stool she’s perched on. Nick throws out a paw to catch her, and she stares right at him, eyes laser focused – nose twitching, ever so slightly.

_Idiot. You scared the shit out of her._

“Um. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, and bends down to grab her notebook and pen. “That…wasn’t what I meant to do.”

“It’s fine.” She sweeps the dirt from the cover and frowns, flipping through the pages to find her spot. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. Not…not really. I just…” He glances towards the curtain, throws a quick look at his watch. “I’m a musician, too. I play across the street. I listen to you every week.”

_Weak, weak, weak, weak—_

“Oh! Oh, you’re that _band_ , the Skulks!”

“You…know us?”

“Yeah, I listen to you guys sometimes, too.” She smiles, and she does not look at all like any of the rabbits Nick has seen at one of their shows.

“You like punk.”

“I like a lot of things.” She folds her paws over her book and smiles at him. “You listen to me,” she says. “Are you really a folk music kind of fox?”

“Not at all.” He pauses. “I just…like you.”

“That’s rather forward,” she says, sliding off the stool and reaching down to put her things away. “Considering I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Alright Nick. I’m Judy.” They shake. Nick’s mouth is very dry. “How about we get a drink after the show?”

“Sure. Yeah. That’s…yeah that’d be great.”

Judy smiles. “Okay. Meet me back here after, then, okay?”

“I’ll be here with bells on.”

She raises a brow. “I’m sure I’ll be able to spot you, fox. No worries.”

 

* * *

 

Finn will be in the bar for at least a couple more hours, so they’re assured some manner of privacy while he ravishes her in the back of the van. It’s a little rough, a little frantic, but Nick has always been that way himself, and if she minds, she isn’t saying much.

(He suspects she doesn’t mind, not at all.)

After, they sit against the wall of the van and pass a flask between them, Judy talking to him about where she came from, her musical father who was stuck on the farm his whole life, her sweet singing mother who always headlines the county fair.

“My mother didn’t sing,” Nick says. “Not in front of people. She taught piano.”

“ _Ugh_ , and your LP is called _Bloodletting?_ Can you even play?”

“I can,” he says. “Quite well.”

Judy grabs his arm. “There’s a piano in the lobby of my apartment.” She tugs on her clothes and searches for her shoes. “We’re going right now.”

“It’s like _one_ in the morning!”

“No one sleeps there, it’s fine.”

Begrudgingly, Nick changes and they rush the three blocks to her apartment, Nick holding onto her guitar while she yanks him through traffic, ignoring the _don’t walk_ signal every time.

“ _You are going to get me killed_ ,” he says, breathing ragged as she keys herself into the apartment. “Also you said it was in the lobby,” he mutters, letting himself be led downstairs.

“Did I? I meant really creepy basement. It’s the landlady’s, but she said I could use it if I wanted.”

“Do _you_ play?”

“A little here and there. My dad does jazz piano, so I picked up a few things.” Judy flips on the lights, gesturing proudly toward the dilapidated baby grand sitting way too close to a water pipe for comfort. “Tah-dah!”

“It’s _filthy._ ” Nick runs a paw over it and coughs. “And probably out of tune.”

“It isn’t, she plays it all the time. Well, it _is_ dusty,” she agrees. “I’ll clean it, it’s fine. Later,” she adds. “Play me something, go on!” Judy ushers him towards the bench, and Nick settles down, coughing for effect as dust mushrooms up around him. “Don’t be so dramatic. What are you gonna play?”

Nick lets his paws settle over the keys, brain conjuring up the image of his mother practicing without permission. He hadn’t been one of her students, but he’d learned her craft anyway, mimicking her movements and stealing her sheet music. Eventually, she’d agreed to instruct him, but he got too old for Mozart and Bach, decided he preferred the enigmatic slide of the electric guitar.

She hadn’t judged him. She’d bought him an amp, actually.

Now, he thinks, she’d be rather proud. Teasing and flirting with a girl, dangling his supposed piano talent in front of her.

His paws hit the keys. The piano rattles, and dust vibrates from the top, but Nick keeps going. It sounds loud in the small space of the basement, but the piece is quiet, delicate under his fingertips. And Judy…is a perfect audience. She leans her head against the piano, humming the tune along with him, watching his paws and fingers move.

When he’s done, she climbs into his lap, sits right on the keys, and kisses him.

“If I’d known piano music was such a turn-on—”

“Shut up and come upstairs with me,” she murmurs.

“Happily,” he says, and lifts her up, carrying her back up the stairs. “Um. Where to?”

Judy _laughs_ , a bright noise that fills the dingy lobby and makes Nick want more of it, makes him want to hear it all the time.

“Fourth floor, fox.” She kisses his jaw. “Fourth floor.”

 

* * *

 

 _I don’t know you, but I want you/All the more for that. Words fall through me/And always fool me, and I can’t react_ – “Falling Slowly”, Glen Hansard, Markéta Irglová


	15. purely medical [emergency room au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood and mentions of violence and prejudice. competent!nick wilde. also considering how long i worked in a surgeon's office, i should know more medical lingo but i think i've forced myself to forget. forgive any typos, i'm tired and i'll look it over again in the AM.

Nick’s always told people, if he wanted to get up at six AM and run himself ragged, he’d take up jogging. It isn’t about being nocturnal (no one is anymore, but it helps to pull the species card sometimes), it’s about being a part of an organ in Zootopia that _lives_ and beats and _breathes._ The emergency room is where it all goes to live or be lost, and Nick likes having his paw on the pulse of it. Even if he gets stuck patching up dumb kids who lost a bet every other night. Most shifts, he’s deep into something, but other nights it’s slow, a few crashes here and there – Nick isn’t usually assigned to trauma, that’s not really what he’s suited for. But he likes this – he likes clucking his tongue and doing stitches and trading stories.

He’s desperate for _this_ one – this little nightshift bunny with something to prove.

“Officer Hopps. This is your fifth time in almost as many weeks. Are you spraining ankles as an excuse to see me?”

The rabbit grins, wincing as she shifts the icepack on her joint. “There’s nothing like IV fluid and antiseptic to set the mood, is there?”

“I was going to say x-rays and oxycontin, but hey, whatever does it for you.” Nick pries the pack from his ankle and tests it. She takes a sharp breath. “Tender, yeah?”

“Fresh.”

“What’re you doing out there, Carrots? Foot-wrestling a rhino?”

“Pursuing a suspect,” she says. “It was a dumb mistake, it won’t happen again.” Her voice gets short, clipped and professional.

Nick shakes his head. “I’m not your CO, rabbit. You can tell me it was all worth it, you know.”

She looks up at him and grins. “It _totally_ was.”

 

* * *

 

She’s in the ER every couple of weeks. Sometimes she needs stitches, sometimes she needs a quick wrap. Never pain meds, won’t take those. Nick doesn’t blame her – the doses they give out for smaller mammals are still stronger than the doses for the larger ones, but they still pack a punch. He took percocet after getting his shoulder reset the year before. Never again.

One night she’s had her shoulder grazed by a bullet, and Nick’s a little worried.

“Carrots, why are you always in here alone?”

She shrugs.

“ _Carrots._ ”

“Relax, _mom._ ” She gasps as Nick puts alcohol on the wound, her entire body shaking. He forgets sometimes that he needs to still be a little careful with her. He doesn’t need her going into shock on the exam table.

“Sorry,” he says, putting pressure on the wound and getting the gauze. “This needs stitches.”

“Yeah, just…just do what you need to.”

Nick grunts. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

She sighs. “I’m…new, still. Sometimes they don’t really…ask. If I’m okay.”

Nick pauses. “That’s bullshit, Hopps.”

“I mean they never ask each other if they’re okay—”

“ _Someone shot at you_ ,” he snaps. “You’re just as important as the rest of them—”

“I’m as _expendable_ as anyone else—”

“You’re a rabbit, of course they think you’re expendable—”

“What the heck does _that_ mean?”

“ _It means you matter_ ,” Nick says. He has to pull his paws back – they shaking, and he doesn’t want to hurt her more.

Hopps stares at him.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit, I’m sorry. I…” He looks down at the floor. “I just…know a little, about being the odd one out.”

There’s an awkward bout of silence that settles between them, before the paw on her good arm reaches out and takes his into her own.

“Please don’t apologize to me.”

“I shouted at you.”

She shrugs. “I needed to hear it.”

Nick chuckles. “Thanks, Hopps.”

“Hey.” She squeezes his paw. “Just…call me Judy? I’ll probably be in here again next week.”

 

* * *

 

“ _I need blood for this rabbit, stat!_ ”

“ _Get the paddles warmed up, don’t just stand there—_ ”

“ _Do we have vitals, I need vitals_ —”

“ _Nick, stop standing there, let’s go!_ ”

Nick looks up, and the world shifts back into focus.

“Right,” he says, a little weak for his own taste, and swallows, diving into the fray.

Trauma’s not his department usually, but they’re sort staffed and, frankly, you couldn’t drag him away from this rabbit.

 _His rabbit_ , that’s what Finn calls her.

“How’s your rabbit?”

“You see your rabbit?”

“Tell your rabbit I said hey.”

Nick goes through the motions, does as he’s asked and stays as focused as he can. She’s so _small_ on the bed, so fragile under his paws now as he hooks her up and slides the IV into her arm to get new blood pumping into her system.

He wants her to wake up so he can tease her, wants to desperately to fall into their usual, easy banter.

But she is still. Breathing, but too quiet.

It takes a while, but they stabilize her, and if she makes it through the night, she’s pretty much out of the woods. But her little body is in shock, she’s non-responsive, and her heart rate is slower than it should be. The cardiologist keeps coming to check on her, to make sure they aren’t overloading her with more than they need to.

“It’s the little ones,” he explains to Nick, who has been concocting a fake bedside regimen to keep himself by her side. “You need to watch out for their hearts.”

 

* * *

 

It takes three days for her to open her eyes.

In between that, Chief Bogo has come to see her twice. He sits by her bedside for a handful of hours each day, reading a book in silence and glancing at her heartrate blipping on the screen every so often. He talks with the doctor once, and leaves her after a while.

Nick is pretending the tape around her IV needs changing when she comes to. It’s only for a few minutes, and the doctor comes in to check on her, announces that she’s survived the shock, and demands she go back to sleep.

Doesn’t take much for her to follow _that_ order.

Bogo comes back, disgruntled at having missed her improved, but pleased to hear about it.

Nick is loitering in her room when the chief says, “You don’t have anywhere better to be, fox?”

“Just tending the patient.”

“You’re hovering.”

Nick stiffens. “I’ve been taking care of Officer Hopps every time she’s come into the hospital. Every she gets shot at or runs too hard, she comes here, and I patch her up.” Bogo raises a brow. “So, yeah, I am hovering. Because I’ve been making sure she gets home safe for months now, but I was under the impression that was _your_ job.”

Bogo says nothing, but then he stands – and Nick’s never quite seen him at his full height and let him tell _you_ , it is _daunting_ – snaps his book shut and says, “Thank you for the insight, nurse.” The last word should demean, because many people throw it at him with that specific intent. But Bogo’s words are…sincere, obviously thought of and placed in a certain order.

So Nick says, “My pleasure, sir,” and goes back to fiddling with wires.

 

* * *

 

A week and a half in, she can stay awake for almost an hour before falling asleep again. It takes a few tries for Nick to be able to see her, mostly because by now, every hotel around the block is probably booked full by her relatives. She’s asleep for most of their visits, but they crowd the room, trading baked goods and thermoses of tea and coffee, sharing stories and getting one another caught up.

Nick walks in one day to do actual work that’s been assigned to him – the pads hooking her up to the heart monitor need to be replaced because one of the nurses on duty thought she’d flatlined the night before and almost passed out – and the second he comes into the room, a hush falls over them.

No one is sure what to say, so Nick just explains that he’s Judy’s nurse, and he needs to get to her so he can make sure they’re reading her vitals correctly. Someone makes a noise when he touches her, but for the most part, everything is cool

Then her mother says, “You’re the fox that’s been taking care of her.”

Nick’s tail twitches. “I’ve been patching her up when she comes in some nights.”

“She talks about you,” she says, and puts a paw on Nick’s elbow. “She’s real grateful for you.”

In bed, Judy stirs. She opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees – Nick, his body rigid and awkward in her mother’s half-embrace, his paw undoing the tie of her hospital gown, and his other paw on her chest.

“Nick…”

He turns, and she has his attention. “Judy.”

“Should’ve known they’d make you take care of me,” she murmurs.

“Well, I’ve got the experience. I’m just gonna fix these up so Marla doesn’t have a heart attack. She thought you’d died.”

“That’d be terrible.”

“Truly tragic,” Nick agrees, and fixes her up. “I’ll be back later.”

“You should meet the family.”

“I did. We traded recipes.” He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Rest up, Hopps. For everyone’s sake.”

Judy reaches out and grabs his paw. “Thank you,” she says. “For taking care of me.”

Nick shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” Like he’d do it for anyone.

(He wouldn’t. Not like this.)

“It still means something, Nick.”

He smiles. “I’m glad it does, Carrots. Really.” He turns and heads out of her room.

Behind him, her mother whispers, “He’s a very handsome fox, isn’t it?”

“ _Mother._ ”

 

* * *

 

“When I’m better, I want you to take me on a date.”

“That’s forward of you.”

Judy spoons jello into her mouth. “I like you. And you like me.”

Nick nods. “That’s very true.”

“So we should go out, and you can tell me about packing wounds.”

“That’s gross, Carrots.”

She grins. “You’ll do it though.”

Nick leans forward, takes a spoon and steals a bite of her jello.

“I will do absolutely anything for you, Officer Hopps. Only say the word.”

Judy sets down her bowl. “Kiss me.”

“Ah. I can’t do that.”

She frowns. “ _But you said_ —”

“I’m on duty,” he mutters. “I can’t just mack on you right here. If Marla sees—”

“ _Ugh, Marla._ ”

“I know.” He picks up her bowl and spoon. “Open up, Carrots. Last bite.”

“Double standard.”

“Hey.” He takes her tray. “I can get away with feeding you. Ravishing you is a different story.”

Judy leans back against her pillows. “Oh? You want to _ravish_ me, then, Nicholas?”

“You’re _going_ to get me fired,” he says. “Go to sleep, Judith. We’ll discuss flagrant rule violations when you wake up.”

She yawns, curls up under the blankets and says, “Sure thing, nurse. Sure thing.”


	16. the ones who hurt the most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fever dream, and Nick is not there. Not really. Not all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for blood and a bit of body horror; some mention of gun violence; hallucinations and disassociation; sad nick and talks of the future, though <3

The light is blinding, and Nick’s first motion is raise a paw, shield his eyes. His arm doesn’t move, but he’s in his bed, and so he doesn’t worry about it. Something beside him shifts, and he realizes that he’s never actually _seen_ this bed before, or even this room. It’s clean, for starters, with scrubbed white furniture and a stack of his favorite novels on the bedside table closest to him, flowers on the other with a little book of poem’s he recognizes as –

“ _Judy._ ”

“Hey.” She’s the one that’s moving, shifting the world around him and swimming into focus. “You’re alive.”

“Should I not be?”

“What you’re experiencing right now is…not real.” Her expression doesn’t change, smile pinned on crooked and kind, the one he loves. “This is in your head.”

Nick considers this, struggling to remember _why_ he’d be imagining Judy in a room and bed he’s never been in before – not that this is a bad thing. He is more than happy to have her here, happy to be able to conjure her voice and face in whatever time of need this happens to be. She _is_ constant, the one thing he keeps coming back to, anchoring him to the reality of his life – that he is a cop, that he is clean, that he is healthy and alive and has family, now.

“You don’t remember what happened,” she says. “But that’s alright.”

“This room…it’s where you want us to live together.” The color of the walls comes into focus – it’s the bedroom of an apartment Judy keeps “accidentally” emailing him about. They’d agreed weeks ago to move in together, but Nick’s dragging his feet. “We don’t live together,” he assures her. “I do love you, though.”

“You do.”

“Do I say it enough?”

“You think you’re saying it, and you think she knows.” The strangeness of the words hit Nick – this Judy, speaking as if she isn’t there (because she isn’t), detailing the richest fears of Nick’s heart (because she knows them, because she _is_ them). “I’m sure she does.”

“She’ll leave me.”

“That’s why you won’t move in with her. Why will she leave you?”

“Everyone does.”

“You sound pathetic.”

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

Judy huffs. “What are you so afraid of? Failure?”

“Yes,” he says. “Always.”

She opens her mouth. “He’s fading.”

Nick frowns. “What?”

More urgent, this time, the voice gruffer. “ _He’s fading!_ ”

“I don’t…I can’t hear. I can’t _feel_ , why can’t I feel this—”

“ _What’s wrong with him, what are you talking about, he’s not—_ ”

Nick groans, and the stretcher hits a bump as it rolls through the hall, winding around corners that Nick keeps track of habitually, a tick lifted from the eleven times he was tossed in a van with a bag over his head –

“ _Nick!_ ”

_Judy. Jude. Carrots. Shit—_

“Officer, please—”

“He’s my _partner_ , he’s…he’s _mine_ , you have to tell me what’s wrong—”

“Male, fox, thirty two years old. Shot twice in the chest—”

 _Oh_ , he thinks. _That._

The memory rushes back, the surprise call midafternoon, a routine robbery, suspects still on scene. Nick and Judy, Fangmire and Striker on backup, heckling one another over the radio. Shots fired, _shots fired, **officer down**_ —

 _That’s what hurts_ , he thinks. That’s why he can’t lift his arm, can’t even move.

He is bleeding to death.

The thought strikes him casually, though the consequences of it send him into a panic. He jerks on his stretcher, trying to sit and find her.

“Officer Wilde, please—”

“ _Judy—_ ” Her name is a cough, a bloody thing that spills out of his mouth and down his bare chest, his vest sliced open and the bullet wounds bared for the world to see. He wonders if it’s like the cartoons, if you can see to the other side of him, watch his heart pump uselessly between his ribs.

_That’s all, folks._

“Nick, I won’t leave you, I’ll be right there, I won’t go—”

“Officer Hopps you can’t go back, you have to stay here.”

“Keep him _safe_. Please, _please_ —” The sound of Judy, the sound of her voice breaking, of _his rabbit_ being left behind as he is ushered further and further away makes his entire body seize, makes every nerve come alive with fear.

A voice says in his ear – _Never thought you might be the one to do the leaving, did you?_

“I didn’t,” he tries to say. “I don’t want to.”

_I don’t want to at all._

 

* * *

 

“You like this place,” she says. “Why don’t you tell her that?”

“ _Shut up shut up shut up shut up_ —” He only wants to be awake, doesn’t want to talk to this horrible version of her he’s made up in his head.

Is this the way he sees her? Peering through his transparencies, knowing every fear and piece of self-loathing tendon and sinew that lives inside him?

“This is a nice room. You did bleed all over it, though.”

“This isn’t real, _this isn’t real_ —”

“They’re pulling the shrapnel out of your chest, most likely. You’ll have a punctured lung, you heard that though, before you went under. They’re draining the fluid from your chest, trying to keep you from going into shock.”

Nick groans, jolts, and opens his eyes.

Bright lights, steady beeps, and silence.

_Beautiful silence._

He realizes in the end, just there, her voice wasn’t her own anymore, and neither was she.

“That’s right.” He watches himself lean over on the bed. “It’s always been you. Us. Doing this thing together. Nick Wilde’s low self-esteem, Nick Wilde’s inferiority complex, Nick Wilde’s crippling anxiety. Whodda thunk it would take a bullet to the _chest_ to get you to realize you’re one breath away from losing her.”

“Judy won’t leave me—”

“Well of course you think that, now that you’re _desperate._ ”

“She loves me, she knows I love her, she won’t _leave_ —”

“Time’s running out, slick. We don’t have years ahead of us. We could die.”

Nick gasps, and air fills his lungs – needles, he thinks. It feels like inhaling _needles._

“Take it easy,” the voice says, but it’s low, now. Gruff and calm. It reverberates through him, shatters his hallucination, fever dream, whatever it is, and Nick becomes aware that he is in some far off, dimly lit hospital bed, hooked up to three monitors that keep beeping his life force out into the universe, staring up at mellow, unblinking eyes of a certain water buffalo.

Nick croaks, and something like words come out. Bogo helps him sip some water. “ _Sir_ ,” he manages.

“The nurse said you shouldn’t strain yourself, so perhaps you could hold your tongue for a few more hours.”

“Not likely,” he manages, though the thought of sleep is tempting.

Still. He has a singular quest, and Bogo knows –

“They found her somewhere to sleep. She’s been here all week with you. You went under four days ago, just came out. Some lucidness here and there, but you were mumbling about floor plans.”

“Right.” _Please don’t let me go to sleep._

“You should sleep. I’ll let the someone know you’ve gotten up. Hopps won’t be happy she missed it, but—”

Nick grunts, sinking into his pillows and succumbing to exhaustion. He swears he sees Bogo smile, some sort of self-satisfied smirk right before he disappears into the hallway.

(the truth is he probably does, but Nick is loose and losing it, and sleep is better than any alternative he can come up with, so he gives in and lets go.)

 

* * *

 

The dreams don’t come. Perhaps he’s grown tired of verbally abusing himself, or conjuring the inverse of the rabbit he loves (he swears he says it, doesn’t he _say it_ ) –

He wonders, though, if she’s real the first time he sees her.

“What kind of question is that?” she murmurs, and reaches out to touch his nose. “My dumb, brave fox.”

He coughs, and she passes him the water glass and straw. “I didn’t leap in front of anyone, did I?”

“You didn’t,” she says, chin resting in her paws. “You just…got shot. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to—”

“If you _ever_ take a bullet for me, I’ll never forgive you.”

She huffs. “You’d take one for me.”

“Without question.”

“This is not a double standard I’m willing to debate, Nick. You didn’t take a bullet for anyone, and I didn’t keep you safe.”

He tries to move, but she stops him. He surrenders. “That was never your job.”

“I love you, so it is.”

“Then protecting you is mine.” He takes another sip. “Also I want to move into that place with you.” She does a double take, frowning and glancing at the pain medication dripping into his system. “I’m not lying. I want to.”

“I…Nick, we’ll talk about this later.”

He shakes his head. “You need to know that I’m committed, a hundred percent. And that every time I buy English muffins instead of _real_ bread, I’m telling you I love you.”

Judy ducks her head. “ _Nick._ ”

“And every time I let you put that weird cheddar salt on the popcorn at the movies, I’m telling you I love you. And every time I get extra whipped cream on your take-out waffles, I’m telling you I love you. And every—”

She leans forward, capturing his lips in her own.

“Nick,” she says. “Nick, I _know this._ ” She cups his jaw. “You know, every time I let you watch boxing, I’m telling you I love you. And every time I order that terrible cinnamon thing for you when we’re on night shift, I love you.” It doesn’t take much to get her into his bed. She buries her face against his neck. “And every time I leave lunch on your desk, I’m telling you I love you.”

Nick hums. “Every time I get the bowls down in staff lounge.”

“Every time I listen to that CD you made me.”

“See, that was a callback, to how we met—”

She sits up. “Every time you remind me of that. Of how we met—”

“Blueberry smoothies,” he murmurs.

“Miniature wedding cakes.”

“Hot yoga.”

“Ice cream.”

“Doing taxes,” he says, and stifles a yawn.

Judy sighs, settling in under his arm. “I’m tired.”

“Only one of us has an actual excuse.”

“If I have to hear about how you took a bullet every day, for the next twelve years, I’m going to preemptively divorce you.”

“ _Judith._ Are you proposing?”

“Like you didn’t expect that,” she mutters, and falls asleep, straight away, right there.

Nick tucks her in closer, not minding the pressure on his side, comforted by the fact that the real and actual version of her, the one he loves, is right there.

“We’ll see about all that,” he murmurs, and kisses the top of her forehead. “We’ll see.”


	17. no other than yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy get hitched the old fashioned way - in a court house surrounded by friends, with no major religious references whatsoever.

She worries a lot that the dress is too short, or not the right color, or that all of _this_ is not the right thing at all. She worries a lot that she’s rushing – “Three years,” he keeps saying, “is more than enough.” – and she worries her mother will be angry, her father will be hurt, her brothers and sisters confused.

She worries a lot. Even though none of those things are an issue.

The parental support is in check, but they now owe the family an entire weekend, and Judy’s got a pretty good idea what’s being planned. The dress is fine, her mother’s told her a hundred times. Everything about _all_ of this is honestly _fine._

“It’s just nerves,” Francine says sweetly. “You look wonderful.” Judy doesn’t remember inviting half of her coworkers, or even _agreeing_. The little court room is full, fit to burst, and the lion presiding over the entire thing looks a bit put out.

These are usually small affairs, he explains. Really. No need for all this _spectacle._

Judy looks up at the elephant prodding at her bouquet and takes it back with a smile.

“Thank you,” she manages.

Francine gives a soft trumpet. “Didn’t think it’d take _this_ long,” she says. “Speaking of, where _is_ that fox?”

“Oh!” Judy looks around.

It’s _extremely important_ that the man she’s agreed to marry is actually present for the ceremony.

 

* * *

 

She finds him in the hall, talking with Bogo in a low voice that betrays its urgency. Judy hadn’t been aware that Bogo had been _invited_ , and she’s feeling self-conscious now in her dress – _still too short, it’s too short_ – tugging at the hem and ducking out of sight. Around the corner, Clawhauser blows his nose into a handkerchief.

“Hey, Judy.” He puts a heavy paw on her shoulder. “Is he asking the Chief?”

“Uh, yeah. He is.”

“ _Ugh._ I couldn’t do it. I can’t stop _crying_ , I’d blubber like a baby up there—”

“…Can’t do—”

“I mean, Nick asking me to be your witness was so _sweet_ , I couldn’t say _no._ ” He shakes his head. “I’d just ruin the whole thing. I’ll sit in the back and cry. Or the front, it doesn’t matter.” He looks at her seriously. “But I will cry.”

“It’s okay,” Judy says, reaching out to squeeze his paws. And with a jolt she realizes –

_Nick’s asking him to be her witness._

Judy hadn’t even known she _needed_ a witness. Or she did. And forgot. Frankly, the last three days had been a whirlwind, and when Nick had proposed, and taken her paws in his and said, firmly and sweetly – “I will take care of everything—”

Judy had believed him.

She still does. She believes he will make this work for her, right up until the very last second.

So she tugs on her dress one more time – “ _It’s fine, Hopps_ ,” Del Gato says, sipping whiskey from a flask – and goes back into the court room.

 

* * *

 

And after that –

She is watching him say their vows, though it is hard to recall those same words coming from her own mouth just moments before. She can hear Nick, though.

She can _always_ hear Nick.

“I, Nicholas Wilde, take you, Judith Hopps, exactly as you are. I promise to love you and lift you up, to make your dreams my own, and share in your happiness always. I promise to cherish and keep you, trust and respect you, adore and celebrate you, for as long as we both do live.” The ring slides over her finger, and Judy’s heart skips a dozen beats, just before it hammers in her chest to catch up.

The lion says, “By the power vested in me by the city of Zootopia, I pronounce you husband and wife.” He closes his book. “You may kiss the bride.”

Nick _grins_ , and Judy laughs.

“Been waiting for this,” he murmurs, before wrapping her in his arms and tipping her back, as their coworkers holler and shout. Someone pops confetti, someone _definitely_ pops a bottle of champagne, and Nick and Judy stop long enough to sign their papers, push them over the Finn and Bogo to witness, and go right back to making out in front of the entire precinct.

“If this is a preview of what’s to come, I request an annulment,” Bogo mutters, leaning back against the railing.

Finn snorts. “Couldn’t agree more.”

 

* * *

 

They hold their reception at the officers' usual bar down the street from the station. Eli, the otter who owns the place, gives everyone a two drink limit. Judy and Nick are placed somewhere near the head of the room on two chairs, and hold court with whoever wanders in to congratulate them.

They leave that night with twelve hundred dollars, six bottles of wine, and a crock pot.

“Married people need crockpots,” Finn says, shoving the box into Nick’s paws. “It’s a thing.”

Nick probably _isn’t_ going to cry, but he’s had five drinks and a shot, so Judy can’t really be sure. She pries the gift away from him and stoops down to give Finn a hug.

“That was really sweet of you,” she says, kissing between his ears. He grins, honey-slow, and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“You just keep taking care of him, you hear?”

“Every day,” she promises.

“Good. I’m gonna go get another beer, it’s getting’ too friendly over here for me.” He gives Nick a soft punch in the gut. “Better beat it soon,” he adds. “Too many cops.”

“Gee,” Nick says. “I wonder why.”

 

* * *

 

At home, Nick spreads the cash out on the bed and swoons.

“Can we sleep with it?”

“No.”

“You _never_ let me do anything fun at _all._ ”

“We got married today. I’m pretty sure we’ve maxed out on _fun._ ”

Nick shrugs. “Dunno. I could think of more ways—” With a push, he pins her to the bed, grinning and kissing her neck. “You were beautiful today.”

“I felt…beautiful. I know that sounds stupid—”

“No,” he murmurs, burying his nose against her neck. “It sounds perfect. Everything was perfect. Especially you.”

“Especially _us_ ,” she says, and reaches out to pull him closer, kissing him deep. “I love you and I like you,” she says.

Nick smiles. “I love you and I like you, too. Pretty convenient, isn’t it?”

“The most,” Judy agrees. She glances beside him. “Hey, Nick?”

“Yeah.”

“Get the money off the bed before you do anything else.”

He groans. “You are _ruining_ a lifelong dream, Carrots!”

“There isn’t nearly enough cash to make _rolling around naked in it_ a feasible option—”

“I want a divorce.”

Judy snorts. “Tough. You’re stuck with me, pal.”

Nick sighs, rolling away and gathering up the loose bills. He pauses, straightening them and setting the stack on the night stand.

“Worth it,” he says, and crawls back toward her on the bed. “Completely and _totally_ worth it.”


	18. all this love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was calling to let you know that your little boy was born earlier this morning, around seven-thirty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adoption!fic - not a big kid!fic fan for this fandom, but i maintain that they'd be great adoptive/foster parents. maybe an expansion of this later about judy and nick fostering older kids in the city.

_There’s all this love if you need it –_ Angus and Julia Stone, “All This Love”

 

* * *

 

She has two missed calls after her meeting with her task force. Judy settles at her desk, shuffles folders to the side, and calls the number back.

“ _This is Rita._ ”

“Hi, Rita, this is Sergeant—” She sighs. “This is Judy Hopps. You called?”

On the other line, Rita makes a little noise. “ _Miss Hopps._ _I was calling to let you know that your little boy was born earlier this morning, around seven-thirty. I only got the call an hour ago myself._ ”

Judy swallows.

“ _Miss Hopps?_ ”

“Yes. Yes, I’m here.”

Rita sighs happily. “ _Congratulations._ ”

“Th-thank you.”

“ _I’ll let you break the news to your husband, then, alright? You know, per the family’s instructions, neither of you can go to the hospital_ —”

“I know.” She clenches her paw. “When…when will we get him?”

“ _When the mother is discharged. I’ll bring him to you myself. We’ll arrange it this week._ ”

_Him._

Judy nods. “Alright.”

“ _You should celebrate,_ ” Rita adds. “ _Enjoy your last nights of freedom._ ”

Judy laughs along with the joke, and it’s fine, but the woman doesn’t really know –

This _is_ freedom.

 

* * *

 

They decided to do it on Judy’s thirtieth birthday.

Nick’s present to her had been extensive, ranging from _loud_ and inappropriate, to a stack of books she’d had her eye on for a while. In between all that, he’d gone and brought back a manila folder into their bedroom. Judy had scolded him for bringing work home – his move to overseeing the newly minted Rehab and Reintroduction Program at the precinct had been good for _him_ , but bad for _them._ They were working through it, and both of them were getting better about leaving work at work and letting home be _their space_. Still. It had been hard.

“It’s not work,” he’d murmured, setting the folder on her belly and kissing her quick. “It’s…something else. Something we’ve been talking about.”

Judy sighed. “If you _want_ the Magic Bullet, Nick, just _get_ the Magic Bullet—” She let the folder fall open on her chest, and felt her breath catch in her throat. “I… _Nick._ ”

“I think…we’re ready. I think we’ve been ready, but we just haven’t been able to say it.” He stroked one of her ears. “You keep saying you want it. You keep saying it would…that we could _do this._ And I think we’re stable enough and happy enough to…” He swallowed. “To _parent._ ”

“…Nick.”

“So if you want to, we should. Because _I_ want to,” he added. “Not just because of you, but because of _us._ We can do this, Carrots, I’m serious. We – _mmph!_ ” She’d tackled him, then, the folder falling to the floor and skittering across the hardwood. After, they basked in the glow of their collective life decisions, and Judy said:

“I want to be a parent with you.”

Nick smiled. “I want to be a parent with you, too.”

“Feels very official, when we say it like that.”

“It should,” he said. “It really should.”

 

* * *

 

Judy takes the elevator to the sixth floor of the building. Nick’s department is always busy, always moving. He has a rotation of therapists, addiction specialists, and mentors hovering around his space constantly, and they can’t have dinner, honestly, without him bringing up new statistics about the city or neighboring precincts. Nick is a font and wealth of information.

He cares, too. _Deeply._

Judy knocks softly on his office door, hears his muffled, “ _Yeah_ ,” and lets herself in.

His brow is furrowed as he leafs through someone's file, furrowed when he looks up, raised _high_ when he realizes it’s her.

“Hey, you.”

She shuts the door and crosses the room to him, closing the space between them quickly.

“I like _this_ development,” he mumbles.

“I come bearing many.”

“Oh?” Nick leans back, and Judy perches on the corner of his desk, toying with his paw in her own. “What’s up, fluff?”

“I…got a call from Rita just now.” Nick nods. “The baby’s here.”

He’d been rocking in his chair before that – now the noise stops, and the air becomes very still.

“… _Shit._ ”

“I know.”

He leans forward, elbows on the desk, running his paws over his ears. “I mean, _shit_ , Carrots.”

She smiles. “Yeah.”

Nick opens a few drawers frantically. “Think we could manage a hospital visit? I mean, it’s the last leg of the race, you know. They wouldn’t…take him. Would they?” He looks a little lost asking the question, glancing up from his search for…something. “We should go.”

“We can’t.”

“Then _what?_ Are we just supposed to wait for someone to bring him to the house?”

Judy nods. “Yes, actually.”

Nick huffs, slumping back in his chair. “That _sucks._ ”

“Your flare for the dramatic never ceases to amaze,” Judy murmurs, leaning forward and kissing the top of his head. “We’ll have him this week. That’s what she said.”

“And that’s…it?”

Judy shrugs. “You know what they told us. Regular visits for a while, but the papers are signed, we’ve paid the fees. The hospital bill will come—”

Nick waves a paw. “We’re fine. I’m not worried about that.”

“The nursery is ready, the house is proofed, we’re stocked—”

Nick looks up. “We’re ready, Judy. You know that, right?”

She pauses. “I…yeah. Yeah, I know that.”

“Hey.” He stands, looking down at her now, bringing her close. His wraps around her, a warm, rust-red comforting presence. Judy closes her eyes, pressing herself against his chest. “We’re _ready._ ”

 

* * *

 

Judy knows they’re ready. She knows they want this.

Doesn’t change the fact that she’s had trouble keeping down her breakfast all morning long, or that Nick is pacing a hole on the balcony.

(“I need to smoke.” – “You _do not._ ”)

Judy gets a text from Rita – _on the way!_ – and Nick _howls_ that she’d better not be texting and driving with _their son_ in the car—

“Our son.”

He huffs. “Well, _yeah._ ”

Judy laughs. “ _Our son._ ”

Nick smiles. “He is indeed our own.” He frowns. “I know we keep talking about it—”

“I won’t discuss this with you again.”

“He’s a _fox_ —”

“So are you.”

“But you—”

“I married you,” she says. “Didn’t I?”

They stare at one another, a world of questions between them –

And then the doorbell rings.

Nick makes a mad dash for it, Judy hot on his tail.

“Is he—”

The door opens, and Rita is there. Her large arms hold the tiniest bundle Judy’s ever seen, and she reaches out for it without a second thought.

“Let’s bring him inside,” Rita says kindly, and Nick leads the way as the bundle is pressed into Judy’s outstretched arms.

He’s a little kit, a brighter red than Nick, more white around his neck and ears. He _snores._

“Mr. Wilde, if you’d sign a few more things for me…”

Nick tears his eyes away from the sleeping thing. “Huh?”

Rita sighs. “Never mind. I’ll bring them by the precinct next week.” She smiles and stands. “I’ll let you know when I’m coming by to check on him. I’ll leave the birth paperwork on the table. Let me know what you call him. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Nick spares a moment to see her out, and returns to Judy’s side on the couch.

The little kit continues sleeping, oblivious to his new heritage, his legacy, or his future.

Judy finally _breathes._

“Nick, _look._ ”

“I know.”

“I’m—” She sobs, and he pulls her close.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “ _hey._ ” A kiss. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

He wakes, and they still can’t decide what to call him.

But it will come.

“Maybe after your dad,” Nick muses.

Judy snorts. “He’d cry. They never named any of us after one another.”

“It’d be a first.”

“We’ll see,” she mumbles, and slides the bottle between their son’s hungry lips.

“Maybe after Clawhauser, since he was the reason I decided to propose in the first place—”

“Don’t give him so much credit,” Judy murmurs.

“Well we have to name him after _someone._ ”

She sighs. “Why? Why can’t we just…find a name we like? Something we agree on.”

Nick snorts, stroking her ear and reaching out to scratch behind their baby’s ears. “We don’t agree on anything.”

Judy hums, tucking him closer and looking up at her husband.

“Well,” she says quietly, and kisses his shoulder. “We agreed on one thing. I think that’s certainly a start.”


	19. made for two [elementary school teacher au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Hopps loves projects. Mr. Wilde...is _definitely_ project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i heard it was tumblr user mmabelpines' birthday. please enjoy, friend.

There’s not much else that Judy really _lives_ for the way she lives for her classroom. For her students. For their wellbeing and education. She’s a teacher, and she’s always believed that it’s her job to put her kids first. And if she’s let a few things about herself fall to the wayside, that’s okay. If her love life’s taken a backseat, that’s fine. If her mother has to call her and remind her of her own birthday, it’s not a big deal.

But, she sometimes forgets that, to her kids – everything’s a big deal.

She’s having a snack just before recess when one of her students walks up to her desk, rests his chin on the hardwood and says: “Miss Hopps? Do you love Mr. Wilde?”

Inconveniently so, Judy’s just taken a rather _large_ sip of her apple juice, and it suddenly goes down _hard._

“ _What?_ ”

Henry is a sweet little cheetah, with wide, green eyes, and a hopeful look.

He’s also _five_ and Judy has no idea where he would get this kind of information, or how he’d think of it on his own —

“I heard she was!” Violent pokes her head out of the pretend center. “My brother’s in Mr. Wilde’s class and he says it’s true. Miss _Hooopppss_ , isn’t it?”

Judy stands at her desk. “Everyone, you need to sit _down_ at your desks, right now. We…we aren’t talking about this.”

“But isn’t it true?” Henry wanders back to his chair. “Isn’t it?”

Judy looks around, arms hanging down by her sides. Their faces are turned to her, eyes wide and bright and questioning. They want _so much_ to be proven right, and Judy can’t bear to crush their dreams.

And it isn’t like…well. It’s not as if she’s _never –_ really it had only crossed her mind a _few_ times –

“…Maybe,” she says, very quietly into the silence of the room.

A dozen little voices _shriek_ in unison. She raises her paws.

“But you can’t _tell!_ ” she adds, perfectly aware that this is futile.

Five year olds tell _everyone_ absolutely _everything._

 

* * *

 

So, naturally, they do what they do.

(And she sort of knew they would. She did. She…she _really_ did.)

 

* * *

 

“Miss Hopps.”

Judy looks up from her place on the playground bench, one paw resting on her notes, and finds a fox-shaped silhouette blocking the sun. “Mr. Wilde.”

“May I join you?”

Judy smiles. “Of course.”

Nick Wilde is the fourth grade teacher. When Judy had started teaching kindergarten a few years before, he’d brought her donuts and coffee as a sort of consolation gift. Something to remind her that she’d survived the day. And so, every year on the first day of school, he does the same thing. They even split the box.

Naturally, all the kids know. That’s probably why they’ve got the two of them figured out.

“So.”

Judy glances over at him. “So.”

“I don’t want to pry or anything, but I _did_ hear from a certain little polar bear that a certain little rabbit…”

Judy flushes. “You know my kids, Mr. Wilde. They’ll say anything.”

“Oh, I know. They told me this morning Principal Bogo was a _Gazelle_ fan.”

Judy laughs. “ _That_ one is…actually true.”

Nick balks. “You’re _kidding_.”

“Not even a little. Clawhauser caught him listening to her last week.”

He laughs, leaning back on the bench, stretching his arm behind her. Judy feels his fur brush the back of her neck.

“Will wonders never cease,” he murmurs and pushes his sunglasses up his nose.

 

* * *

 

Every few weeks, Judy and Principal Bogo have a meeting. It’s rather informal – just a way for him to keep up with what his teachers are doing, to spy on classroom décor and lesson plans. And, he confesses, he _likes_ talking to Judy. They’d overcome a rather strenuous first year and found one another to be understanding and honest confidants. Though it appeared not _all_ secrets were made for sharing.

“I’ve no shame about my taste in music,” he insists. Judy laughs behind her paw. “I suppose it _is_ rather amusing.”

“Very,” she agrees, and puts away her proposed lesson plans back into their carefully labeled folder.

Bogo gives her a rather poignant look. “I’m hearing some rumors, Miss Hopps. They’re largely student-sourced, but they _are_ rumors all the same.”

“Oh, _brussel sprouts._ ”

“That’s a new one.”

“I’m trying out different vegetables,” she mutters glumly, resting her chin in her paw. “Did they tell you?”

“About Wilde? Something along those lines.” Bogo leans back. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“There’s nothing to have a problem with,” she insists. “Honestly, sir.”

He shrugs. “Well, should you choose to pursue. You should know, though, that Wilde was in my office a few weeks ago. Made a passing remark on dating within the staff.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

“Your name was brought up.”

“Please. _Stop._ ”

Bogo chuckles. “Are the rumors false, then? You don’t reciprocate?”

Judy scowls. “I don’t even know what he _thinks_ of me. How can I reciprocate an unknown?”

“Well.” Bogo pushes his chair back and stands. “I suppose you’ll have to _ask._ Won’t you?”

Judy waits until she can hear his hooves clear the hallway before bringing her forehead down onto her desk. _Hard._

 

* * *

 

She figures that, if she wants to stop going completely crazy anytime soon, she ought to take her own advice.

After all – she _can’t_ reciprocate an unknown. And if Nick’s going into Bogo’s office, asking if he can _date her_ –

“ _Ugh._ ”

Her mother smiles on the other side of the phone. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

“Just…interpersonal work stuff.”

“Tell me more.”

Judy rests her chin on her paw. “ _Supposedly_ one of my coworkers wants to…you know. I mean, he _asked_ the principal about dating other teachers.”

“Is that okay?”

“Bogo said it was.”

Her mother nods. “You want to, then?”

Judy chews her bottom lip. “I…do. I think. He’s sweet. An _absolute_ troublemaker, I mean he _never_ has his lesson plans written out, and he seriously needs to learn how to use an iron, but—”

“Sounds like a project.”

“He would be.”

Her mom smiles. “Honey. You love projects.”

Judy sighs. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I really do.”

 

* * *

 

Nick is locking his classroom on Friday, humming to himself. Judy clears her throat. “Ah, Miss Hopps.”

“Hey, Nick.”

He regards her for a moment, then grins. “You finally get the message, Carrots?”

“I did.”

“Good.” He glances at his watch. “I think we should get dinner, first, and see a show after, if you’re in the mood. My buddy Finn plays in a band. You’ll hate it, and you and your cardigan will stand out like a sore thumb, but.” He shrugs. “Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spent the evening with.”

“That’s so funny,” Judy says, stepping closer. “Because _I_ was going to say the exact same thing.”

Nick ducks his head. “I’d, uh. I’d really like to kiss you.”

“And I’d really like if you kissed me.”

He grins.

He kisses her.

Judy sees _stars._


	20. chain of command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, can you do one more thing for me, besides staying absolutely gorgeous?”
> 
> Judy sighs. “What, Nick?”
> 
> “Stay relaxed, and enjoy what’s happening. You’re going to be a first all over again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 20th one-shot to me!!! enjoy some future fic with parent feels and smooches <3
> 
> EVERYONE IS SO STABLE IT'S BEAUTIFUL

Judy breathes.

It’s four AM, and when Nick finds out she’s awake, he’s going to give her ten kinds of shit for it – but he’s snoring next to her, that light, prickly sound he makes when he’s deep into REM sleep, when he’ll be a terror to rouse. She lets him rest, carefully padding out of the room and into the kitchen. She’s up an hour before the coffee pot is programmed to run, another sign that it is _too early_ for her nerves to have her out of bed.

But they do, and she is. She makes a pot of coffee and goes out onto the balcony.

The early risers and late-nighters cross over here – she sees the beavers putting up road blocks and cones for the repair work they need to do on Seventh, sees the last of the late shift girls spill out of the diner across the street, waving to their early morning counterparts. She spots a patrol car, too – maybe Fangmire, pulling another punishing late shift, or that new recruit, Grizzowski, who complained a little too loud and a little too much on Monday morning.

Her ears pick up a train pulling into the station – she’ll have to remind Nick that he needs to be there at _nine sharp_ to get her folks, because they _will_ be on time. Hopps family tradition.

(He’ll be five minutes late and her mother won’t say a word because every single thing Nick Wilde does is endearing to her parents – it’s a _living nightmare._ )

“Why are you _up?_ ” Judy starts and turns, finds Nick opening the sliding door and holding a mug close to his chest. “It isn’t even five, fluff.”

“Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Nick snorts. “Like you tried?”

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” he mutters. “It’s this stupid internal alarm clock or whatever. I’ll have you know that I used to wake up at a _decent_ and _respectable_ time.”

“Two in the afternoon is _neither_ of those things, Nick.”

He shrugs, taking a sip and sitting on one of the chairs. “Don’t get yourself all worked up over this, Detective Hopps.”

Judy smiles, settling in the chair next to him, taking his paw when he offers it. “It’s just who I am, Detective Wilde.”

He sighs. “I can’t believe you’re going to be my superior again.”

“You love it,” she teases.

Nick smiles, raising her paw to his lips. “I do,” he admits.

They sit together until Nick insists she come back in and rest for at least another hour. Judy complies. Her heart and head are a little more settled now.

He has the effect on her.

 

* * *

 

Nick leaves early to do some shopping for the apartment while her parents are in town – it’s their third weekend-long stay, and he’s learned that, where the Hopps are concerned, a crisper drawer can really never have _too many_ radishes.

“Don’t forget creamer for my dad.”

“That’s _disgusting_ and I am going to remind him of that in the morning.” Nick kisses her forehead, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “I’ll see you at eleven.”

“Absolutely.”

“And call my mom, make sure she remembers what time dinner reservations are.”

“I can do that.”

Nick smiles, reaching out and giving one of her ears a gentle tug. “Hey, can you do one more thing for me, besides staying absolutely gorgeous?”

Judy sighs. “What, Nick?”

“Stay relaxed, and enjoy what’s happening. You’re going to be a first all over again,” he adds, and kisses her cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you,” she says, and watches him go.

After a moment, she throws the door open again and shouts down the hall: “ _You better not forget your uniform at the dry cleaners!_ ”

“ _Sorry, Carrots, I can’t hear you over the sound of how responsible I’m being!_ ”

Judy rolls her eyes, shuts and bolts the door, and takes a few deep breaths.

She _is_ going to be a first all over again. It happens every time, and when it does, the fear never quite changes. She gets more confident, more convinced that she’s done everything she can to deserve this –

But it wreaks havoc on her nerves. It makes her heart thump in over time. Her paws tremble, just a bit, when she’s trying to squeeze soap out of the bottle in the shower.

_Stay relaxed, and enjoy what’s happening._

“I can do that,” she murmurs, toweling herself dry. “I can absolutely do that.”

Her uniform has been pressed and hanging in its plastic bag for a week now. Nick wants to see it, wants to see the spot where they’ll pin her new badge and where her new nametag will go – but Judy’s…a little superstitious about it.

“It’s not like they’re going to take it away from you,” he’d murmured, after she’d confessed.

Now, she wishes she’d asked him to stay, for only a second. There’s a part of her that desperately wants to share this with him – but she isn’t ashamed to admit there’s another, bigger and louder, part that is pleased to have this moment to herself.

The uniform doesn’t look much different than her first. It has her detective’s badge on it, now, and some of the medals she’s received. The one for cracking the missing mammal case is there, and the one she got with Francine last fall for one of the biggest drug busts in ZPD history is there, too. She knows Nick is specifically proud of his own – his undercover work from his second spring on the force is basically legendary, now, and he brought down three big businesses for tax fraud and evasion. The irony was never lost on him.

She smiles, thinking of him as she changes into her uniform, looking for her hat somewhere at the top of the closet. She finds Nick’s, too, and tosses it onto the bed.

 _Dumb fox_ , she thinks to herself, and goes into the kitchen to find her phone.

 

* * *

 

Nick’s mother is always calm. Judy suspects she’s always had to be, considering the kind of trouble her son used to get up to. When Judy calls her, it’s like getting fresh air through the other line, and her voice clears out all the doubt and anxiety that had been building up since the night before.

“I’m perfectly aware of when the reservations are. He’s only nervous about me seeing your parents again.”

Judy laughs. “I sort of figured that’s what it was.”

“Well, it’s not like the first time went poorly. I made the damn reservation,” she adds. “How are you, honey? Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great.”

“You sound tense.”

 _Mothers_ , Judy thinks. “Well, you know. Big day. Big promotion. Just…everything.”

“You’ll do great. And you’ll look great. I won’t keep you from getting down there, I need to find this necklace I wanted to wear, it’s around here I know it…”

“I’ll see you,” Judy says.

“And I’ll see _you._ ”

 

* * *

 

Her nerves hold.

That is what she’ll remember most about all this later.

She won’t really remember the things Chief Bogo said about her – that she defied expectations, that she broke the missing mammal case, that she consistently solved more crimes than most of her peers, or that she was relentless to the point of occasional ineptitude when it came to her work. She’ll remember the way he sounded, though, when he said the words, and pinned her new badge on her uniform.

“Sergeant Judy Hopps.”

The rest of it is drowned out in the cheers of her officers, of her family and Nick.

“Our first rabbit sergeant,” Bogo says, and puts a hoof on her shoulder. “And we couldn’t be prouder.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner is a long, slightly intoxicated affair. Nick’s mother and Bonnie pick right up where they left off, which was largely complaining about teenagers. Stu and Nick are in a spirited debate about the sustainability of organic farming, and Judy is working her way through her own, personal bottle of wine.

She wishes some of her sisters were here, to relieve her of the chatter. She wishes some of her brothers were here, to tease and fight with.

But she doesn’t wish much else about this night, because it is spot on and perfect and precisely what she imagined could happen when she came to the city.

Later, Nick does his duty to get her parents situated, to tease her father about coffee creamer and all of them about the damn radishes – “They taste like _dirt_ ,” he mutters, before closing the bedroom door.

He helps Judy out of her uniform, gives her water and puts some pain killers by the bedside table.

“For your moscato hangover,” he murmurs, and kisses her shoulder.

“Did I do good today?”

“You did _great_ today.”

“You did great today,” she says, curling up against him.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“And you’ll be up there soon, too.”

Nick shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe there’s other things I want. Maybe I want you to be my boss forever.”

Judy looks up at him. “That’s your fate already, slick, whether you become sergeant or not.”

Nick sighs. “True,” he murmurs, and turns out the light. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	21. hard candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to say something, but her heart is still broken.
> 
> (and the truth is: so is he.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shortest thing i've written in a while, had to get this little idea i've had out of head. sorry for the sads, i won't do this to them again (probably). 
> 
> (edit: decided to use this for my 5/11 fic-a-day)

The weird thing is that the work never changes. Judy moves desks, but that’s because she gets promoted. Detective, now. He’s proud. He’s with everyone else at the little ceremony in the main hall of the station, but he leaves when it’s over. He saw –

She wasn’t looking for him.

Sometimes he gives it his best shot, but the wound is still fresh, and he is still in love with her. Nick understands – her heart is still a little broken. It’s going to take time.

Some of their things are still at each other’s places. They speak long enough to agree upon a sort of drop site – trade the boxes, go their separate ways.

There’s more of her stuff than his – probably means something, but he doesn’t really want to get too deep into that.

It’s not like he isn’t broken inside over all this either.

He loves her.

He hurt her.

And she—

“I can’t find one of your ties,” she says. “The one with the flamingos on it.”

“I think I have that one.”

“Let me know if you don’t.”

Nick shrugs. “Sure.” He sets his box down next to hers. “I think everything’s in here.” Judy nods, leaning over to sift through her things, checking to make sure. “It’s all there,” he says, snapping without meaning to. Judy freezes.

The wind catches them both, and it carries her scent – linen and grass and _sunshine_ , he breathes it in and suddenly his chest aches and he wants to take it all back, everything he said that pushed her this far, every moment he wasted, every time he wasn’t there – he wants to go back.

He wants to do it over.

“I trust you,” she says, and Nick _shatters._ The sound that comes out of him gets her attention, and her expression is pained. “Don’t do this, Nick.”

“I know I screwed up. Judy, _I know_ , but I can be better. I swear, I can be—”

She takes a step back. “Not right now, Nick. I can’t…I can’t listen to this right now.”

“I _love you._ ”

“I know you do.” She picks up her box. “But that doesn’t make any of it go away.”

“Judy—”

“I didn’t want it to end,” she says quietly. “Because I didn’t want to stop loving you. But I can’t hold both of us up. I can’t keep going, thinking you’ll open up and you’ll be completely honest and you’ll be there for me every time I need you. Because you haven’t done that, Nick. And I get it, I know life was hard, and I know it _sucks_ sometimes. But I need you to be there. I need you to be _present._ I need you to know that I don’t see you like everyone else.”

She shifts the box in her arms. “When you sort that out, maybe we can try again.”

And she’s crying, and Nick hates that he’s done this to her. But the words are final, and they make sense.

He nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He picks up his box. The distance between them is…insurmountable, at this point. There is no way of crossing from where he is to where she stands, not without work.

“I know I need to work on me, too,” she murmurs. Nick wants to argue, _no you’re perfect_ , but he understands. “Maybe it’s just…not the right time. It happened so fast, it was so sudden, I—” She catches her breath. “I’m sorry, Nick. I need to go.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll…see you on Monday.”

“Yeah.” He watches her turn and head down the sidewalk. How convenient, he thinks, that they have always lived in opposite directions. Makes walking away from her easier (even though it is almost impossible).

_I’ll see you._

 


	22. away from you and me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dancers au. tw for injury discussion, pain, body issues. shorty-short post for fic-a-day, **5/13/16**. the song playing in my head for judy's rehearsal/routine is "undertow", by ane brun, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnGA8MGx5NY).

The studio is quiet. Should be - it's after hours, and Judy's got the whole place to herself. Perks of volunteering to teach the physical therapy class, considering how much of it she's been in lately. Her ankle is healed, she's doing fine, but it's been hard getting back into the swing of things. She drops her bag into the corner and rifles through it, looking for the little CD she burnt the night before. Any of the ten songs she's put on it will do - her first solo performance in months is a ways off, but she needs to be ready - she favors a few of the tracks, and puts on her current pick. The first bars or so are just warm-up, but she'll get something in there later. Right now, it's all about finding that comfort zone, trying to outsmart the injury.

And it works, for a while. A minute in and she falls funny, trying to save herself from the pain she knows is going to radiate through to her hip in the morning. She falls again, and then again, and then again - 

"Maybe you need to try something else."

Judy looks up, hoping that it's just someone who looks and _sounds_ like a certain fox she knows, but she isn't that lucky. Nick leans against the wall, watching her struggle to get back to her feet. 

"I've told you before-"

"Studio's closed, Wilde. What are you doing here?"

"I left my tap shoes in my locker."

Judy scowls. "You don't  _tap._ "

"No, you're right." He pushes himself off the wall and closes the space between them. "Boss-lady said you were doing some solo practice work in here. I wanted to make sure you didn't take a fall and get stuck here all night."

"I'm fine."

"Carrots-" He puts a paw on her shoulder. "You're hurting yourself."

Judy shrugs him off. "I appreciate the concern, but I don't need it, Nick." She goes to the CD player and changes the track. "I don't need you."

 

* * *

 

In the morning, she's feeling it. A few well-time Ibuprofens take care of the generalized ache, and a warm bath and a follow-up ice pack helps with the swelling - 

But none of it does much for her pride.

She shows up at the studio again around nine, mostly okay, but Nick's coming out of his early-morning swing class and spots her discomfort right away. Judy prepares to defend herself against him, but all he does is offer her an icy-hot patch before going back to his room. Judy begrudgingly puts it on and heads to her tots 'n tap class. 

But he's there again, when the place is closed, and Judy finally gives up and lets him watch. The routine goes better tonight. The stiffness is starting to subside, she's starting to  _feel_ better, feel  _happier_ about being here. Nick offers to give her one-on-ones - he's developing some kind of therapeutic swing class. Judy declines.

"It'd really make you feel better, Carrots. I can promise that."

She switches tracks on the CD again. "I feel fine, Nick. Thank you for offering."

"I'm full of offers," he says. "You know the previous one still stands."

She sighs. "Which?"

"Dinner. You. Me."

The CD skips. Judy closes her eyes.

"Nick."

She hears him pad closer to her, feels his body almost against her own. 

"I won't see you that way," he murmurs. "I  _don't_ see you that way. You're more than your injury, Hopps. You know that, don't you?"

Judy almost pushes him away. Almost. She takes a small step back, instead, and Nick exhales. She says, "I have to get this right. I have to do this."

Nick cocks his head. "Why? Why do you feel that way?"

She swallows. "Because this is what I've always been. And it has to be perfect."

"Nothing is perfect." He steps closer again. "Though you often come very close."

"Stop it."

"Okay." He puts some distance between them. "But the offer stands, you know. Probably will for a long time."

Judy sighs. "Good to know, Nick."

 

* * *

 

Her old instructor used to tell her that she was built for ballet. Agile, quick on her feet, always thinking a few steps ahead. Most of her body, the older hare had said, was made for it. 

"Except those  _ears_ ," she'd always murmur. Judy unconsciously keeps them down, tugs on them sometimes when the urge strikes. Nick teases her for it. 

He likes her ears.

"But I like everything about you, Carrots." They're not having dinner, not really - it's a late lunch, and Nick is eating and Judy is picking. She's always picked. "You want some of this milkshake?"

"Ugh, no."

"You nervous?"

She shrugs. "I knew I was going to do this. It's not like it's unexpected." Nick nods. She's performing her new routine for their head ballet instructor today, to see if she's on the right track and to make sure everything is looking alright. It wouldn't do for Judy to wipe out in the middle of a recital, in front of their students and parents and other instructors. Might embarrass someone - and the someone they're thinking about isn't Judy. 

"I've seen it, and it's good. You're going to do great."

"Right." Judy pushes her salad away. "I know that." 

Nick shrugs and eats the radishes off her plate. "I suppose if you don't get it approved you could just be my partner. I need one, you know."

"I don't do swing, Nick."

"But you could," he insists. "It's good for you, too. Easier on those joints of yours."

"That's not a real thing."

"It is," he says. "Look it up." 

 

* * *

 

(It sort of is - she can only find articles about some random woman with arthritis doing swing and teach classes, lots of articles on aging and dying and dancing. Nick  _would_ be into that.)

And the performance goes fine. He was right, like he always is, and Judy walks out feeling  _relief_ wash over her. She wants to celebrate, she wants to leap for joy, she wants to -

"Carrots!" Nick jogs after her through the parking lot, and Judy can't help it, can't  _resist_ -

She reaches out, stops him mid-run, and kisses him. 

They stand there, Nick awkwardly bent over, trying to make up for the height difference and still sort of be involved while Judy just completely loses herself. 

It'd be a silly, useless lie to say she hasn't wanted to do this for a while.

After they part, Nick stares, and Judy goes very warm all over.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He tugs gently on one of her ears. "It was good. Was planing on that happening after you finally agreed to dinner with me, but-"

"Let's go to dinner," she says. 

Nick blinks. "Seriously?"

"Yes." She grabs his paw and pulls him toward his car. "And we can... _talk_ , I guess. About me being your partner." Nick makes a little noise and Judy sighs. "We'll  _talk about it_ , got it, Wilde?"

"Sure," he says. "Just talk. I could show you some moves."

"I know your moves."

"Well." He pauses, grabbing her before he opens the door to his car and pressing her against the door. Judy gasps. "You don't know  _all_ my moves, Miss Hopps."

She smiles. "I'm looking forward to see them, Mr. Wilde. Would you care to start now?"

"Absolutely," he says, and takes her paw, leading her out into the open space of the parking lot to dance.

 


	23. sea of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is very quiet, and Judy's glad she already said goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic-a-day for **5/14/16**. tw for character in the midst of dying, grief, cancer, loss, playing fast and loose with medicine, and some stream of consciousness nonsense. i swear this was going to be something else but.
> 
> if it helps i sort of made myself cry.

_come with me my love, to the sea, the sea of love.  
i wanna tell you how much i love you._

\- "sea of love", phil phillips

 

* * *

 

**it works and it doesn't. it starts the way you want it to, and when it goes right, when it's good - god it is so _good_ , isn't it? **

**it is as good as it will ever get.**

 

* * *

 

(Dear Nick,

          I miss you. I think I should get that out of the way right now. I miss you in the mornings, when you are still not quite awake, somewhere between one dream and another, working through a lingering thought or wish or want. I miss you as the sun goes down, because I remember that sunsets made you sad and think of something that you couldn't always tell me about. I miss you at night especially - why did we buy the bigger bed? It's only cold without you, and there isn't enough of me to fill the spaces where you used to be. I miss you.  _I miss you._ I can't think about the days and moments that are going to come. Every five minutes is a struggle, every ten minutes is a battle - every hour is a war that I am not ready to fight. 

          The world is quiet without you. And I am a little bit less. There is a chasm there where I think you used to be. And you will never read this, you won't see how your absence has obliterated the miles and years and heartbeats I had planned for us to weather together. You won't see me pack your things, and then mine. You won't see me live and exist in smaller and smaller spaces.

          Everyone says I'll be okay. I wish they wouldn't. For a while, I would just like to be anything but.

                              Yours, Judy)

 

* * *

 

 **PATIENT INTAKE REPORT**  
                                                                      PRINT FOR: DR. C.B. HARRES  
                                                                      CC: DR. GUNYO, DR. TRIPP  


                                                                      A COPY OF THIS REPORT IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON THE ZOO-H PORTAL.

 **PATIENT NAME:** NICHOLAS P. WILDE

Patient is a fox, male, forty years of age. He is a detective with the Zootopia Police Department. He is married. During the visit the patient complained that he had been suffering headaches for some weeks, as well as strange, intermittent loss of vision. He visited with his general physician and underwent an MRI that same week. A small, tumor, measuring 33 mm, was discovered. A needle biopsy was done, and Dr. Harres diagnosed Mr. Wilde with a Grade IV malignant tumor. He was seen by oncologist Dr. Lance Gunyo. A week after, periods of vision loss began to increase. On May 4, the patient suffered a seizure in his home. He was brought to the emergency room by his wife and was evaluated by myself. We determined that it would be best for Mr. Wilde to remain in the hospital for further monitoring. A second scan showed the tumor had grown to 41 mm, but this had been predicted. Until yesterday, he averaged one seizure per day, no more than two. This morning I was called and informed that he had suffered a third seizure before 10 AM, and had become unresponsive. An additional scan showed the tumor has increased in size once more. Mr. Wilde is being evaluated for hospice care. A copy of this report has been sent to Vulpes Hospice.

 

* * *

 

(Dear Judy,

I hope no one tells you not to cry. I keep doing it, and it's weird and then we do it together and it gets weirder and I just hope no one tells you to stop. I'm dying, and it sucks, and honestly this is happening way too fast for me to process it, but I'm taking it one step at a time. I haven't even had time to bargain, because I keep having to tell a nurse how I feel, or asking politely to be untied from my bed. This sucks and I'm sorry you're watching this happen. I'm really, really sorry that I'm doing this to you. I'm sorry you have to take care of me. I'm sorry you have to watch me die. I'm sorry you have to go home and be alone (please don't be alone, please don't let anyone let you be alone you are the last bunny on earth who deserves to be alone, even when I was basically doing okay you never deserved to be alone ever and I don't want you to be). 

I love you. I'm sorry I was never so good at saying it, but I hope it came through, I hope you could see it, I hope that you knew every time I was waking up, I was happy to do it next to you. That every time I was reaching for your paw, reaching out to touch you, reaching out to hold you or kiss you - even if my mouth was closed, if the words just weren't coming out right that day, that you knew - I love you. You're the dumb bunny I married, the one I promised I'd spend the rest of my life with. Guess I didn't lie. 

Guess it's just a matter of perspective.

I love you, I love you, and if there's a place for me after all this, I'm going to miss you like hell, Carrots. I'm going to miss you so much you're going to feel it. You're going to know whenever I'm thinking of you. You're going to know whenever I'm there. That's creepy, and I'm sorry I said it, but I only hope there's something for me after because I just want there to be a place where, maybe, we can see each other again, after all this.

That's weird, and I know it.

But I love you. And it's hard to picture a life without you - even one where I'm gone.)

 

* * *

 

**and then it moves forward, like someone bumped the record player. that jagged skipping noise, like nails on a chalk board.**

**and suddenly all the time you thought you had -**

**it runs through your fingers. and the tighter you hold, the harder you grasp it -**

**well. you understand.**

 

* * *

 

He is very quiet, and Judy is glad she's already said goodbye. But someone has to be here, and this is her husband. 

So she's here.

His mother was there earlier in the morning, but the room was oppressive, the lights and sounds were too much, and she left to be at home, alone in her space and with her photos and her memories. Judy understands, and she won't ever hold it against her.

Nick is quiet. Nick is still. 

Her Nick has already left her - his last words were more of a sound. A laugh, and a smile. 

It was only a few months ago that they were planning things - a house, no more apartments. Something of their own. Something drips like venom down her throat, says into her lungs and stomach -  _money needs to go somewhere._  

The IV drips. The monitor beeps. In another hour, they will talk to her about life support, but Judy isn't ready for it yet. She's still watching his chest rise and fall, feeling the warmth she knows so well fall off him in waves, heat that wraps around her and reminds her that she is loved and he is hers. 

Her fox. 

Her Nick.

            (her nick has already left her - his last words were something like her name, and she will never forget that.)

 


	24. constructive criticism [college au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Wilde considers himself a goddamn professional, with no room for compromise. Judy Hopps is starting to become his exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the college AU makes a return! for fic-a-day **5/15/16**.

He isn't sure what to make of her work this semester. He isn't sure what to make of Judy Hopps at all, really. She is sharp, clever — she challenges him, which is a good thing. Nick will never argue against that. He  _likes_ to be challenged, and there's something about this bunny, something about the way she pushes the envelope, refuses to accept anything other than exactly what she wants that has Nick tossing and turning some nights, or simply avoiding eye contact with her altogether.

She's his  _student._ He is not supposed to be...attracted to her. Or to the idea of her, at least. To her words. 

Because  _God_ , her words.

Her first few papers had been bland, boring, straight out of high school shit. Nick's one wish in life is to get rid of this standardized high school writing crap - all these boxed topic sentences and  _in conclusion, I was forced to write this_ one-liners. Nick doesn't want that. Nick wants, above all else, for the work his students make to  _breathe._ And Judy's first papers were the opposite of that. DOA, anoxic, limp in his paws. So he'd pushed. He pushed because she'd been late, because she argued, because she wanted an A when she hadn't earned one. Not out of cockiness or entitlement, but simply because she'd believed her work to be perfectly adequate.

And  _fuck_ , the second she realized it wasn't, the second she realized there was something  _there_ for her — 

Nick won't take credit for it, even though he has. It's fun to see her feathers get a little ruffled when he takes the credit for her doing better, for her writing giving him  _chills_. He takes credit for it, but there's something in her eye that tells him she sees through the bullshit. She sees through the bravado and the laziness and the sunglasses he wears all the way through his 10 AM class —

she sees through  _him._  

And  _that_...that scares the hell out of Nick. 

 

* * *

 

He's in line for coffee, and he is so hungover he sort of wants to fall through a hole in the ground and maybe die. It's like the older he gets, the worse he becomes at handling less and less alcohol. He had, what, four beers last night? Used to be he could polish of a six-pack,  _comfortably._ But, used to be most of his friends were high functioning alcoholics. Nick spends a lot less time with those guys as of late. Except for Finn. Finn teaches metallurgy and Finn can put away two six packs easy, no hiccups, no headaches. Nick's currently scrolling through a barrage of texts that call him anything ranging from a frat boy at his first kegger to a dad-bodded martini swilling shithead. 

At least he's being creative.

Nick orders an Americano, iced, and dumped half-and-half into it, giving it a quick stir, holding his straw between his teeth. 

"Mr. Wilde?"

Nick turns. Only Judy Hopps still insists on calling him that, and usually whenever she sees him outside of class. Which is fair, he supposes, but sort of makes him a little crazy. Just something else that she does that he's trying to sort through and process. The way  _Mr. Wilde_ sounds coming out of her mouth, like it might sit right on her tongue, like it might sound...like something  _else_ if she said it sat on the edge of his desk, leaning forward with her head tilted to the side like it always is, mouth parted slightly, paw on his shoulder, so close he could touch, so close he could  _taste_ , so close he —

"Hopps." He cuts off his own fantasy before it gets weirder than it already is. "Is a prodigious, studious young rabbit such as yourself partaking in the ritual of industrialized caffeine consumption?" 

Judy rolls her eyes. "Yes," she says dryly. "Sometimes we all fall prey to the machine. You look terrible."

"I feel terrible, thank you for noticing." He raises his cup to her and watches her order a tea. He has no idea what he's waiting for. She pours a bit of cream into it and turns to him, clasping the little cup in her paws. "Are you sitting?"

"I was going to," she says. "I prefer to come in here around this time. Things slow down." She gestures toward a table. "You...want to sit with me?"

Nick clears his throat, takes a sip from his straw. Says, "I can spare a minute."

(A lie. He's got the rest of the day to kill, he doesn't teach past four and it's four-forty-one right now. Perfect time for coffee and idle chatter with a student that you are becoming increasingly attracted to with each passing minute. No big deal  _oh god this is a terrible idea —_ )

"I wanted to talk to you about the first assignment for this semester."

"I can't believe you signed up for my class," he mutters, shaking his head.

Judy shrugs. "You gave me an A."

"You...earned it," he says. "A lot of you did. You guys really worked hard." Judy's final essay had been solid A work. She and about half the class had really  _blossomed_ , and Nick had been proud of them. Of course they got A's. Gave him good reviews, too, from the looks of it. "What's your question?"

"The topic." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a folder, showing him where she's printed the assignment, scribbled her notes all over it in soft, lilac-colored ink. "Discovering the Self — a story that defines you.'" She shakes her head. "What do you even want?"

"A story," he says. "Non-fiction, about you. Something that happened to you that made you into  _you._ "

Judy frowns. "We're eighteen. We haven't  _lived_ , Mr. Wilde."

"You've lived eighteen years, haven't you?"

She sighs. "I see your point, technically speaking, but I can't..." She trails off, as if a thought's just occurred to her. "Oh."

"You get it?"

"I always got it," she says, and shoves the paper and folder back into her bag. "I just...figured out the rest of it." She smiles at him. "Thank you. Really."

"Uh, sure. Yeah."

"I'll email you a rough draft, is that alright?"

Nick nods. "Totally."

"Great. Thanks so much, Mr. Wilde."

He sighs. "Sure thing, Hopps.  _Keep it one page!_ " he shouts after her, knowing full well she'll email him four or five. 

Which is fine.

He's been...thinking about her writing for a while now. He's missed it.

 

* * *

 

 **from:** judyhopps91@zumail.com  
 **to:** nickPwilde@zumail.com  
 **subject:** rough draft we discussed

Mr. Wilde —

Here is the rough draft we discussed. I'll trim it down of course, but perhaps you can tell me if I'm on the right track? I would appreciate some effective feedback, which you never fail to deliver.

Best,

Judy Hopps

sent from my iPhone

 

Nick prints out the draft, because he has no idea what he's fucking doing anymore, and scans it. He's surprised, it's two and a half pages instead of her usual text block, and it's...certainly better than all the other work she's given him. It's fresh, but to the point. A bit too much detail here and there — something about a festival, something about her  _dreams_ all that nonsense —

_I remember the scratch vividly. I remember the pain, welling up on my cheek. Three solid lines — Gideon's mark on me. His mark on my words. His mark on what I had wanted from him, what I had demanded from him. My mother fretted, my father and brothers threatened to make calls and visits, but I wouldn't let them. There was no one to blame. Gideon had done as he pleased, and had felt no guilt. I could feel no regret, I had one my battle for the day. No one else can see the scars, but I can. I don't notice them to remind myself of anything. Gideon and I have long since overcome that part of our lives. I remember them, though, because they defined an initial relationship for me. Something my parents would always bring up long before I came to the university. "In the city," they said, "there are foxes." But, I reasoned, foxes were everywhere. And after all that, I repaired my working relationship with Gideon, I made certain that I would not leave my town without him knowing that I never feared him, never hated him, never wished him any ill-will. That I only wanted us to be okay. To be alright with what had happened. With what had transpired at the tail end of a generational feud that neither of us had the instinct to remember._

Nick swallows and tosses the pages onto the desk. He has no idea what this means, and he's about to email her back with a general message, when his inbox lights up.

 

 **from:** judyhopps@zumail.com  
 **to:** nickPwilde@zumail.com  
 **subject:** none

_**THAT WAS THE WRONG ONE PLEASE DON'T READ IT.** _

 

Nick snorts. Types back:  _let's meet tomorrow. eleven AM my office?_

Sort of just to fuck with her.

A message instantly shows up in his box.

"Of course, I will be there right at eleven."

Typical Judy.

Typical Nick. 

 

* * *

 

"Mr. Wilde—"

"I read it, Hopps."

"I started it and realized what it would mean, and then I wrote a different one, but I sent you the  _wrong_ paper, and I'm—"

"No." He raises a paw. "You sent me the right one." He leans back in his chair. "It's good. A little rough, but it's good."

"Mr. Wilde—"

"You had a moment, a long time ago, where you could have chosen to be afraid for your entire life. And maybe you still are, just a little. But you could have let it  _consume you_ , and that would have defined everything for you. But you let it go. You let it become one less thing holding you back." He shrugs. "Why not write about it? It's a good story. It's a good memory."

"That's...an interesting way of seeing it."

"I have an interesting way of seeing things," he says, and hands her the draft. "I made some edits. Don't send me the other one. Work on this, it's good." 

Judy nods, taking the paper and sliding it into her bag. "Okay. Thank you."

"Sure. Let me know whenever you need some help, okay?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I will." She shoulders her bag and moves to leave his office, which isn't much more than a glorified cubicle. She pauses and turns back to him. "I was a little afraid of you," she says quietly. "When I started. You were...pushy, and intense. And you're a fox. We learn so much about what we  _aren't_ , you know. I'm  _not_ a fox, you're  _not_ going to eat me—" Judy swallows. "We don't learn much about what we could  _be._ I could be a writer, you could be my mentor, my instructor." Their eyes meet. "Thank you for reading this and...not hating me."

"There's nothing to hate, Hopps. You were two kids, sorting yourselves out."

She laughs. "It sometimes still feels that way. Does it...for you?"

"Every damn day," Nick says, and stands with her. "Just keep going. You'll make it out alright."

Judy nods. "Right. Thanks again, Mr. Wilde. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Sure thing." He waves as she goes and falls back into his chair. 

This isn't  _helping_ matters, for reasons he doesn't quite understand, and he knows more of what she means that he'll ever be able to let on.

Because he needs to sort himself out — needs to figure out what this means to him, and how to make it stop.

They have an entire semester ahead of him, and if she's going to be this  _raw_ and this open to his words and critique...

Nick's going to need some better coping skills. 

Who knew all it would take to start shaking down his walls would be one little bunny?


	25. keep falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of love in their house these days. Nick tries to keep his head above water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of the adoption storyling, written for whale-biologist on tumblr, who was very sweet and supportive. tw for emotional discussions, children feels, and floof. for fic-a-day, **5/17/16**

It keeps being his turn, but Judy keeps getting out of bed before Nick’s feet can hit the floor. He knew it was going to be this way. He knew she was going to take everything on herself – not out of any sort of hero complex, but simply because Judy Hopps will always _be_ Judy Hopps, even when she’s Sergeant Hopps, and even when she’s a mother. It just is the way it is.

Tonight, though, her hours of usurping her husband’s parental duties have finally caught up with her. One ear twitches in response to the cries of their son, but she makes no move. Nick, however, is rest and awake. Years later, and it’s still hard to shake his more nocturnal habits. It’s after midnight, though, which is, frankly, Judy’s prime time. She lives for late-night paperwork, binge watching some terrible sitcom, spur of the moment meals or baking. This was before they became parents. Before their adoption attorney showed up with their kid in her arms. Before their apartment became baby proofed. Before the late-night bottle making and the aggressive googling of “ _can my kid eat this??_ ” –

They used to be different, he realizes, and it really hadn’t been that long.

Nick goes into the nursery and leans over the crib. The little kit squirms in his breathable onesie, a sensible choice according to Judy’s research.

(Nick had not done any research beforehand. All his research was coming in the _after_ – after the kid had eaten a napkin, _after_ he’d tried to swallow soap, _after_ he’d fallen off the couch – things Judy didn’t need to know, like, ever.)

He sighs and scoops up his son – _his_ , he keeps reminding himself. This tiny, screaming, fussing thing is now an extension of himself, sleeps in his wife’s arms and makes soft little snoring noises when he finally goes to sleep, _looks_ like Nick in a way he will never look like Judy –

“You’re gonna give your mama grey hairs,” he mutters. “Well. Greyer than the ones she has naturally.” He shifts his position and carries his son into the kitchen. “She told me you’d be hungry. Let’s get you something.” Nick’s finding he’s learning to do things one-handed these days, holding his kid in one arm, opening doors and typing and texting and operating the microwave with the other.

They pace the kitchen together, Nick humming something vague that’s been worming around the back of his brain for a while. He knows his mom sang a long – she sings whenever she comes over to babysit. Judy does, too. Without realizing it, Nick thinks. Before the baby, the singing was conscious, purposeful, done between the two of them to tease or entice. Nick refuses on principle to listen to the garbage his wife has been populating her music library with for umpteen years. All his bravado about CD’s is pretty much bullshit – Nick’s been listening to cassettes for twenty years.

“Here we go.” He tests the milk and shifts his arms again, sliding the bottle into an impatient, hungry mouth and heading back to the nursery. Nick stifles a yawn. “I am never tired at one,” he mutters. “This is your fault.”

His son makes a little noise, as if to say, _that’s the general idea._

“Figures.” Nick settles into the rocking chair and sets a gentle rhythm.

This is not how he imagined things going. When he met Judy, when he was dragged into her life, when he became her partner and part of her and when they made the decision to be _together_ – even then, he did not see this. He _couldn’t_ see it. He had hardly repaired his relationship with his mother. He was working on being a good son again, a good partner for Judy.

He hadn’t expected to marry her. He had thought they might live in a sort of elegant cohabitation and then remain that way. But they didn’t. Nick hadn’t even expected himself to ask her.

He just had.

And then _this_ –

A soft cry.

“Hey, _hey._ ” Nick pulls the bottle back. “No fussing. You’re okay. We’re both okay.” The crying subsides. “Everything’s okay, you know. I’m not going to be the one who says he regrets any of this, you know. I definitely don’t.” Nick tips his head to the side. “You’re going to be so loved, do you know that? There’s so many people who love you already. I know, mostly because I’m one of them. But being with your mom sort of means you have a built in horde of family who loves you implicitly. The fox side loves you, too, of course.” He nods. “I think you’re the last thing my mother expected out of me, but she loves you.”

Nick presses their snouts together, carefully –

“I love you. You little monster.” He coos. Nick laughs. “Yeah, alright.” Nick kisses his forehead. “You ready for bed again?” They stand, and Nick pats his son’s back until he hears a soft, careful little hiccup, before laying him back down. “My mother told me she loved me every day when I was a kid. It wasn’t her fault I screwed up. I think I remember every time she said it, so I’m going to say it to you, too. Even when you’re sixteen and you hate me. Even when you’re a grown ass man with your own kids. I’m going to tell you every day. Just like your mom is always going to ask if you’ve brushed your teeth, or if you want more canned beets.” Nick taps the little kit’s nose. “Tell her _no_ on that last one. No one needs that many canned beets.” He kisses him again. “Sleep tight, squirt.”

Nick checks the baby monitor before backing out of the room and settling back into his own bed. Judy hums and turns, sliding her arm over his chest.

“S’good?” she asks, blinking sleep from her eyes.

Nick nods, kissing her forehead. “It’s good, Carrots. Go back to sleep.”

“He’s okay?”

“He’s okay.”

Judy nods. “He was with you,” she manages, stifling a yawn. “I know he’s okay.” She’s out like a light after that, and Nick’s going to have to get onto her for saying _devastating_ things like that before he falls asleep.

She’s always doing that – disarming him without trying. He has a feeling he’s going to be on an uneven playing field with these two. Probably for the rest of his life.

But he’s okay with that –

They both might have him wrapped around their fingers, but there’s enough of him to go around, and he’s just fine with being loved and wanted, more now than he ever has been before.

And if there was ever anything to regret, there isn’t anymore. Not now. Not like this.

Not while they are all together.  


	26. something left to prove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment where eating your favorite fruit gives you panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger for panic attacks, flashbacks, avoidance and emotional triggers. for fic a day, **5/18/16**.

It takes all of seven seconds for Nick to _choke_ after the berry slides over his tongue, gnashed between molars and canines, spilling out and into the sink as he frantically scrambles at the faucet. What he wants is to expunge the flavor from his _memory_ , to have never known it in the first place.

But the scent lingers. It always does.

It’s not his first blueberry since the museum, and it’s certainly not his first time trying. He keeps working on this, for some reason. Like if he _likes_ it again, if he can disassociate the smell of fear, the sound of Bellweather’s voice, the quiet, forced pleading – if he can separate it all from something he used to actively want, then maybe it will stop finding its way into the sink every time he puts it into his mouth.

Maybe he can get back to being exactly who he was before this happened.

(But he can’t, and he won’t, and he wouldn’t even if he could.)

 

* * *

 

And if she knows what he’s trying to do, she doesn’t say anything. Judy is softly complex, in ways Nick could not fathom before knowing her. Her stubbornness he understood from the start. Her kindness, he grasped. Her strength, cleverness, empathy, logic – he knew it, knew where it faltered and faded, knew when she was at her best and worst.

But there are parts of her he is still unfolding (because why shouldn’t there be, why should she be a constant mystery to him in some form or another, and why shouldn’t they be that to one another?) –

Like realizing the shortest way to work is to take the bus or walk past the museum –

And she won’t.

It’s an extra ten minutes, sometimes fifteen with the traffic and construction, but – she won’t. Nick notices it by chance, notices it when he starts to go that way and she veers to the left.

“Carrots—”

“This way is good,” she says, instead of _I won’t and I can’t_.

Nick swallows.

( _Chokes on blueberries and blueberry pie and he will never wash the scent from his fur, it lives in his neck, it has taken root inside of him and it has **her voice** and it sounds like Judy backed against the wall and the teeth gnashing that came so naturally and – )_

“It’s basically the same way,” he murmurs, and reaches to clasp her paw in his own.

 

* * *

 

He’s trying to keep it to himself, but she knows.

He’s trying to keep a lot of things to himself, but…she knows.

She is trying to keep things for herself, too. Nick understand. Nick respects that. Nick won’t take that from her. It is her. They are her secrets. It’s her life. They don’t share that much yet. As much as he would like to say they’re in deep.

It’s more of a careful splashing in the shallow end. Staying safe.

It’s like wading in with floaties, hoping you were wrong about the sharks on the bottom. Nick’s pretty sure he isn’t, he’s pretty sure the sharks say things like _I love you_ (and he can’t). The sharks say things like w _e’re going to be okay_ (they never say that because who knows if it’s true). The sharks say things like _every time I think about a blueberry I want to lay down on the ground and seize._

(Nick doesn’t say that.

He just sort of does it.)

And it’s not really seizing. It’s just this _trigger._ Someone’s baking and someone’s got blueberries and Nick’s vision is a little white and the ringing in his ears is excessive and he wants to stop breathing, but his body is making CO 2 in overtime and needs to get it _out._

And he sort of forgets she’s there, right until she puts her paws on his shoulder, and her voice cuts through the shrillness in his ears, and he is _collapsing._ Cardboard Nick, becomes a hundred shapes with a single push, wears a dozen masks, tells a thousand lies, hated by many, loved by few, might be having a panic attack, might be in love, might be crying, _might be might be might be might_ –

“I’m here,” she says. _I’m here, and I know._

Nick wants to say he’s sorry, that he knows it’s stupid, that he knows he’s a mess, but –

She wouldn’t take it.

For Judy, this is fine. It’s perfectly okay to be a mess about blueberries and museums and handkerchiefs. It is perfectly okay to walk an extra mile on your way to work. It’s really okay to cut an entire fruit from your diet.

Not because you don’t want to confront it, but because now really isn’t the time.

“It’ll get better,” she says softly.

“None of it was real. No one was going to die.” Nick fumbles over his own words. He relives the moments before, the hurried planning, the careful extraction of the nighthowler pellet, reverently placing it in his shirt pocket, sliding the berries into the gun like _this is fine, this is okay, this will work._

“You never would have hurt me,” she says, like she _knows_ or something.

Nick looks at her, wishes he had that sort of confidence in himself.

“Judy—”

“You didn’t then, and you never will.” She takes his chin in her fingers. “I trust you, and I love you.” She kisses his nose. “Now get off the floor and come lay in a blanket burrito with me. I’m tired and I want a nap.”

 

* * *

 

Objectively, there is no hope for Nick unless there is hope for Judy. As long as they continue to bus and walk in a ridiculous circle _around_ the museum, Nick is going to continually have some kind of _fit_ around blueberries.

And then – on a Thursday, just sort of out of the blue ( _absolutely no fucking pun intended_ ) –

They don’t veer left.

They walk right past the museum.

And Judy says, “We should go inside, someday.”

Nick feels her paw slide against his own, and he squeezes it, waiting for the light to change at the crosswalk. Judy texts with one paw, never really looking _at_ the museum (that’s a lot, that’s a lot, that’s _a lot_ –), but acknowledging its general existence, _I know you’re there, and you won’t get the best of me._

“Sure,” Nick says. “Whenever you want, Carrots.”

She looks up at him. Smiles. Nick raises her paw to his mouth and holds it there. They get swallowed up by the oncoming crowd and have to scurry to make it through the light.

But that’s okay.

Nick buys a basket of blueberries on their way home.

Finds the flavor isn’t quite the same.

The texture isn’t quite what he remembers.

They spoil in the fridge. He throws them out the Sunday they get back from their first trip to the museum, and he’s perfectly fine with that.


	27. informal evaluation [college au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some point, this is all going to get out of hand and she's going to figure out when to stop. At some point...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is ~not the end of the college au. i feel like it has one more leg left. for fic-a-day **5/19/16**

“Judy, it’s the size of mom’s closet.”

“It’s _smaller_ than mom’s closet.”

“Mom would be uncomfortable in this space.”

“Does she _know_ that it’s this small?”

“She said it was tiny, she’s obviously seen it—”

Judy groans. “ _Enough_ ,” she says, shutting the door to her room behind her. “Seriously.”

Abby immediately falls backwards onto Judy’s bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s probably good you’re the only one in college right now. You’re like a cautionary tale. Don’t dream to big because big dreams come with small digs. That sort of thing.”

Her brother Oscar nods, shoving his sister to the side and stretching out next to her. “Mom called it _cozy._ ”

“That’s mom-speak for small.” Abby sits up on her elbows. “It’s very _Judith._ Do you put flowers in here yourself?”

“I like them,” Judy murmurs, touching the petals of the daisies she’d bought that morning. “They give it character.”

“Well when the color of your walls is _lukewarm soymilk_ , you need it,” Oscar says, ducking when Judy tosses a pen at his head. “You said the food around here was better than subpar. I’m starving.”

Judy nods. “It’s good, you’ll like the salad bar.”

Abby shakes her head, holding up a paw of papers. “Five minutes, I’m reading.”

“Reading what?”

“These comments from your English professor. They’re… _intriguing._ ”

Judy balks, lunging forward and trying to snag the papers from Abby’s hand. “ _Give me_ those—”

“ _Your writing used to bore, now it bewitches, Hopps. You have a gift that shouldn’t be squandered. I won’t take all the credit unless someone asks. Keep up the good work._ ” Abby stares. “Judy.”

“Don’t.” She grabs the paper and shoves it into her desk drawer. “Let’s go have salad.”

“We can’t eat _salad_ after that!”

Oscar groans. “ _Why?_ I’m hungry.”

“Were you not listening? Her English professor is _absolutely_ into her.”

“He’s a PhD student, not a professor, and he is _not_ into me,” Judy says, grabbing her wallet and keys. “Can we just _please_ get going?”

“Yes!” Oscar says brightly. “We can walk and talk. Is he good looking? Is he funny? Do you guys exchange witty banter?”

Judy sighs, opens her mouth to say _of course not_ , and realizes at the last second that it would be a complete and total lie.

Nick Wilde _is_ handsome.

Nick Wilde _is_ funny.

Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps _do_ exchange witty banter.

Nick Wilde is absolutely, one-hundred percent _off limits_ and she completely knows that.

Abby makes a noise. “The feeling is mutual. Look at her face.”

“Stop it.”

Abby _crows._ “I can’t _believe it!_ Goody-two-shoes hall monitor Judy Hopps has the _hots_ for a _teacher!_ ”

Judy closes her eyes, her key jammed in the lock as she breathes. “Abby, stop.”

“Are there rules? Do you guys always flirt through your assignments? I wonder if he thinks about you when he’s writing, I wonder if you’re his _muse_ —”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Judy snaps, turning the key _hard_ in the lock. “This is inappropriate and _not_ happening.”

Oscar whistles. Abby looks sheepish.

“…Sorry,” she says, hooking her arm in Judy’s. “I was just…I mean if you _like_ him…”

“He’s very likeable,” Judy murmurs. “He’s a good teacher. Mostly a professional.”

Oscar snorts. “Mostly?”

“He’s hungover a lot.”

“What a keeper.”

Judy laughs. “Tell me about it.”

 

* * *

 

She happily suffers through having her brother and sister stay with her for spring break. It’s a relief from the usual humdrum of school, of writing and studying and presenting. When they go, she misses them, but Abby’s last words stick around, rattling through her brain without permission.

_Shouldn’t he know how you feel?_

The quick answer is _no._ He shouldn’t know, at all. He’s her teacher, even if he’s not a professor. He’s instructing her, mentoring her, being paid to do those things. Judy’s got a crush. Abby is a romantic. Nick could get fired. Those are the facts and Judy’s not going to be the one who screws everything up. They have one more assignment, and then she’ll be able to move on, pretend none of this ever happened. It’s just a minor infatuation. It’s inappropriate, it’s dangerous, it’s temporary. Like her.

(Because she knows – she knows he watches, she knows he’s trying to work something out every time he grades one of her assignments. She knows there’s a reason he cuts their meetings short, replies to her emails with these short, almost monosyllabic responses. She knows. She knows because she’s doing the same thing, and they must be so very obvious to one another now, Judy realizes. So very, _very_ obvious.)

 

* * *

 

“I’m really proud of you guys.” Nick perches on the edge of his desk, glancing around the room. Judy aggressively doodles on the corner of her notebook. “You did good work this semester. Some of you have only been with me since January, and that’s okay. The rest of you made the questionable decision to join me twice. Couldn’t fathom why.” Judy chances a look up, and he’s definitely making eye contact with her.

She swallows. She wonders if he’s _trying_ to disarm her, or if they have both resigned themselves to awkward, lingering looks and intricate fantasies.

“But whatever your reasoning, however long you’ve been here, doesn’t matter. You came here, you did what you were asked, and now we’re almost done. I was trying to sort out what your last paper should be about, right? Thinking it over, thinking about what maybe I got out of this.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d like to think about that, too. Maybe you’d like to talk about what you _didn’t_ get. Was there something you wanted to learn and I never taught it? Did you come here expecting one thing and finding something else entirely? You tell me.” He leans back. “I want to know what it was like for you, being here. That’s it. One and a half pages, that’s all I want.”

He looks at her.

Really _looks._

Judy feels something twitch, maybe inside, maybe outside – can’t be sure.

He looks.

She looks back.

 

* * *

 

(And never let it be said that Judy Hopps doesn’t confront her issues. Never let it be said that she doesn’t at least try to push it down before she processes. Never let it be said that she hadn’t tried to reason with herself –

She did.

She really tried.

The reason why she has two papers sitting on her desk isn’t because she had the time to kill, or because she’s amusing herself.

All she wanted to write was the truth.

And so it sits, in twelve point, Times New Roman, staring at her lukewarm soymilk colored walls, asking to be listened to, demanding to be heard.)

_I realized that I wanted you, at some  point. I wanted something that you could never give me, something that I would never ask for. And I’m not asking for it now – I won’t. Not today, not after this is over, not after we are done. I won’t because I couldn’t stand to compromise what you are, who you are, everything you seem to stand for. Just know that you made me better, that I am **better** because I was lucky enough to learn from you. Because I don’t just **want**. To want is to have some kind of base desire for, and that isn’t me. That doesn’t begin to cover how I feel._

_I tell you I want you so that I might hide the fact that I have feelings for you which I don’t quite understand. They run too deep and too crooked for me to hold. I shouldn’t tell you this. I shouldn’t feel this way. It’s an undeniable ache that lives inside me, and the knowledge of it is so new still. It took so long to see it, and I wonder if I almost wish I never had._

_Please forgive me. Please understand. Please take this and do what I can’t. Put it somewhere safe and remember it._

_It is probably best that I forget._

 

* * *

 

 **from:**[nickPwilde@zumail.com](mailto:nickPwilde@zumail.com)  
**to:** judyhopps91@zumail.com  
**subject:**  [no subject]

You know my office hours.

-n.w.

 

* * *

 

Both her papers are on the desk, staring up at the popcorn ceiling with intent. As if they are real. As if they have faces. As if they matter outside this room.

“…Judy—”

“I shouldn’t have given them both to you. I’m…sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“My sister said something, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have gone there.”

They’re both silent for a few moments, before Nick picks up the offending paper and hands it back to her.

“No,” he murmurs (her heart leaps into her throat) – “You shouldn’t have.”

(her heart crawls back down)

“I can’t accept this under…any circumstance. You’re my student. It doesn’t really matter what my status is or that you won’t ever be in any class of mine ever again. I can’t keep this and I can’t respond to it.”

Judy swallows. “I understand.”

“I’m going to pretend I never saw it,” he says, but he won’t look at her. He clenches and unclenches his fist over and over again. “I’m going to pretend that I don’t know.”

“Of course.”

Now, he looks at her. “I’m going to pretend that I can’t tell you how I feel. Because how I feel is wildly inappropriate. It is out of bounds, it is unacceptable, given our relationships, and it could get us both in a lot of trouble.”

Judy breaths. _Oh._

“You are extraordinary,” he murmurs. “You are clever and obstinate. I’m lucky to have known you for the short time I did.” Nick looks away. “You need to leave.”

“Nick—”

“You _need_ to leave.” He stands and goes to the door, opening it and keeping his distance. “Please,” he says (begs, pleads). “Please go.”

Judy nods, grabbing the offending paper and making herself as small as possible, drawing back from him and almost sprinting out of the building. It’s a relief to get outside, to be in the sun and air. She doesn’t feel _free_ , not from her feelings, but she feels something. Something inside her has shifted, knowing that he knows the truth. Something inside her is different.

Something inside her says he doesn’t regret knowing as much as he claims to.

But it changes nothing.

She walks, keeps her head up.

She throws the paper in the garbage, and doesn’t look back.

It’s just a feeling. Just a lick of desire. Nothing more.

Nothing less.

And maybe, eventually – nothing at all.


	28. credible sources [college au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought about you," he says, words spilling out before he can reconstruct the dam around them. "All summer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most likely the last part in this, but something may come up at a later time. confessions, age difference, relationship issues, and cutes abound. back-posted for fic-a-day for **5/20/16**

The university bookstore is enormous. That had been Nick's thought ever since he'd started school here, working through the shelves and begrudgingly asking for help once he'd been caught clamoring to the tops to get this book or that. The longer Nick  _lived_ as a smaller mammal, the more he came to realize how certain parts of it simply hadn't been built for him. 

But the size of the library had its advantages. For one, it could make someone completely anonymous, especially in the insanity that came before the start of a new semester. The weeks after summer break ended were a mess of students and faculty swarming the store, pulling books of the shelves, pleading for returns — Nick knew it well, he'd worked there for his entire undergrad career, but that had been, what, eight years ago? The student body had almost doubled in size since then, or so it felt. Still, Nick enjoys the way he can move undetected through the crowd. Makes him feel safer, slicker, less —

"Glad to see you, Judy! Catch you in class, right?"

_Noticeable._

Nick swallows, freezing at the end of the aisle and staring down it. He had spent his entire summer suppressing this  _thing_ that still had no name, and suddenly there it was, wearing the face it had worn in the sticky heat of night as his air conditioner struggled to keep up with the rising temperatures, the clunk of the swamp cooler working overtime in the bar down the street providing the less than ideal backdrop to the fantasies he tired so  _desperately_ to push down and — 

She looks up.

Nick looks.

_Shit, shit, shit_ — He thinks about what he'll say when she comes toward him, what he'll do if she tries to hug him, or if she disarms him with — 

She turns back to the shelf, looking over her booklist and reaching for one of the titles. On tiptoe, finger brushing the spine, she looks like she had in his dreams and Nick's throat goes dry and  _he thought he'd fixed this_ . 

He doesn't need a book down this aisle, but it isn't the first time he's lied about being in the right place at the right time so what's the worst that could happen?

Nick moves closer, but she doesn't turn to speak, doesn't even notice him. It's giving him a mini stroke every time he  _stares_ at the back of her head and she doesn't  _notice._ How can someone not  _notice_ being stared at, being  _consummed_ — 

"Mr. Wilde."

He jumps at the sound of her voice. It had been the one thing he'd never been able to manufacture in his own mind, and now it comes rushing back, jolting him out of his own self-pity.

"Miss Hopps."

Judy finally turns and looks at him, eyes trained on his, expression completely cool. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Ah, yeah. Yeah it was great. Got lots of work did. Done. Done lots of work."  _Fuck._ "You?"

She raises a brow before shrugging. "I spent part of it with my family, but I had an internship in the city with a law office."

"How'd that go?"

"Fine, thank you for asking." She turns back to the shelf, pulling down another textbook before she says, "Did you need something?"

"Uh, no. No, I didn't need anything, I was just—"

"Then I'll see you around, I guess." Judy gives him a smile and tucks her basket against her side. "Have a great semester, Mr. Wilde."

Nick nods after her, watching her disappear in the throng of people. "Yeah. You, too."

 

* * *

 

"Drink up."

"This is, like, sick and _wrong_ , right?"

Finnick sighs, tossing back his drink and setting the glass on the wood of the bar. "Not _sick_ , idiot. But you know. Definitely wrong."

"I am _better_ than this. I am _better_ than some schoolgirl crush." Nick shakes his head, finishes off his beer and sighs. "This sucks."

"It does. Would suck less if you weren't such a shit baby about it."

"I am _not_ a shit baby."

Finn snorts. "Yeah, you definitely are."

"Okay, _smarty pants_ –"

"And a lightweight, you've had like three of those, who calls someone a _smarty pants_ anymore–"

"If I'm the one who's in the wrong, then why did she write that essay? Why did she _tell me_ and then why did she _ignore me._ "

"Because she's smart, dumb ass. What she wanted and what you _want_ are completely and totally the same thing, but you and I both know how much red tape you'd have to get through to get there."

Nick perks up. But there's...a way to do it."

"Uh-uh. Don't even think about it. _She's moved on!_ You heard it yourself."

"But what if she's just pretending she's moved on, what about _that._ "

Finn takes the beer. "Now you're done. You're not drunk you're _delusional._ You spent your whole summer writing about her and coming up with reasons why it wouldn't work and then why it would, instead of finishing your damn novel like you said you were going to and now you've got this picture of her built up in your head." Finn flicks his ear. "She's not your fantasy, Wilde. She's a girl who has her whole _life_ ahead of her."

"I don't care about how old she is."

" _No one else does either_. That's not what this is even about. Fuck, you don't even _listen_ to yourself talk, do you?"

Nick leans back in his chair. They're both quiet for a long while, the shitty bar music blaring loud, the crowd behind them obscuring their conversation. Nick can hardly think, but he's...processing. He says, "It's not worth it, is it?"

Finn sighs, surrenders the beer back to him and shakes his head. "I don't know, man. I guess it's really about...about if _you_ think it is. There's work, man. You have to do _work_ to get it to, you know." He shrugs. "Work."

Nick snorts. "There's a reason you don't teach English."

"And there's probably a stupid reason somewhere that you do."

 

* * *

 

Whatever he wants, though, it has to wait. The semester starts and Nick's got his usual course load, plus more work for his dissertation. He thinks about her every once in a while, but not actually seeing her every week does him some good. Her voice won't get out of his head, though. He can hear it so clearly, hear the tones and pitch, like it was something out of a movie he saw right there in the store, playing on repeat just for him.

Nick groans and rolls over in bed, thinking about how far his desire has come, how _much_ he didn't used to want her, and just how much he now _does._ It's a physical ache, a longing that won't quite leave him, and he's gnashed at it for hours, trying to figure out what it means to be infatuated with this rabbit he, honestly, doesn't really know.

Finn says it's a malfunction of his character, but not necessarily a bad one. Nick chooses to start digging through the rules, but quietly. He's not interested in getting any unwarranted attention from his dissertation adviser just because he used the department computer to google "relationship between PhD candidate and former student."

After a couple months, he thinks he might be able to get away with not seeing her at all. She doesn't take any of the classes in his department, she lives somewhere on _campus,_ definitely far away from him –

He's not just going to _see_ her, he hardly sticks around on campus, he –

"Mr. Wilde?"

 _This damn bookstore_ , he thinks, and takes a breath. He'd come in looking for a new set of journals, maybe a nice new set of pens to distract himself from other things he wanted and couldn't have. He's not sure why he feels so safe here, but he's starting to question in choice in comfort zones.

"Miss Hopps." He turns to her with a broad smile, but her expression forces it down. "Hey."

She looks...sort of infinitely sad, like a painting he remembers that hung in his art teacher's classroom in grade school. Something distant, made by someone who was gone and had taken their own sadness with them. He had wondered – the painting had been of a fox, a vixen who had been caught in a moment of vulnerability, mourning something or someone, and Nick had always wondered if she'd been real, and if her sadness had been tangible, like Judy's.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I...nothing, I guess." It sounds like the nothing Nick gave her at the start of the semester.

"Judy..."

"Can we talk?" she asks, and starts moving toward the doors. Nick abandons his pens and journal, following after her. There's a coffee shop up the walk, but she bypasses that, so he follows in silence. Whatever she wants from him, whatever she needs to talk about – it's for them, he figures. And he knows this is a bad idea, knows it better than he knows himself, but his feet carry him along with her, winding through campus and finally ending up under a little grove of orange trees behind the all-girl's dorm. It's quiet, it's private, totally deserted. Nick sits next to her on a stone bench.

The silence is breathtaking in its splendor. In its indulgence.

"I had a terrible summer," she says. "It was _hot_ here, and I only got to be home for two weeks and I've been stuck in this city for months." Judy drags her paw under her eyes. Nick pulls out his handkerchief and she takes it. "My internship was _stupid_ , all I did was make coffee for these guys for three months and then I get here and they're asking me to do it _again_ , and I don't want to. Everyone in my program is an _ass_ and I'm just...I'm _alone_ and it sucks, and I spent my whole summer thinking about you and I know it's wrong." She looks at him. "I know it is."

"Judy..."

"It's like I can't stop _telling_ you, I don't know what's wrong with me. Like if I tell you enough times you'll suddenly start feeling the same way and we'll find some magic loophole and get to be together and that's so _stupid._ God, I'm so _stupid._ "

Nick shakes his head. "You're not."

"I feel it."

"Hey, look at me." She does, and Nick wants so much to kiss her, to tell her _that way_ that he has felt the same about her for months now, that _he_ thought about _her_ for months on end, that his only friend gives him ten kinds of hell for it, that he has been fighting the urge to just _scream at someone_ that he can't figure out why it would be wrong, why it would be unfair, why it –

"I thought about you," he says, words spilling out before he can reconstruct the dam around them. "All summer."

Judy flinches, drops the handkerchief and stares. Nick bends down to pick it up, but her eyes don't leave him.

She opens her mouth. " _What?_ "

"I told you the things I wanted to tell you, but you were my student, it was still out of bounds. I thought about finding you, but I couldn't get your address, that would have been _worse._ " He shakes his head. "You took something from me, you know that?"

She shakes her head. "I don't understand."

"You took away any right I had not to want you. It's gone now. All that I've got is this...this _need._ And it's not about something that can be fixed with just a touch or whatever. I need and I want _you_ , in all your...your _completeness._ "

Judy blinks. "You...want me."

"I do."

" _You_ feel...the same way about _me_ , that...that I feel about _you?_ " He nods. "I... _how?_ I'm just...just Judy. I'm just me. There's nothing special about me, there's nothing about what we could be that makes me more incredible, or incredible _at all_ –"

Nick snorts. "Please don't tell me you've been selling yourself short all summer like _that._ You know how clever you are."

"Well _sure_ , I'm smart. I'm...I'm a hard worker. I..." She shakes her head. "I don't _want_ to have a conversation like this, Nick, it's not a _job interview._ " He laughs again and she punches his arm. "Stop it!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just..." He grins at her. "All summer long, I was trying to figure out what someone like _you_ could even _begin_ to see in someone like me. I'm a fox, I'm a fuck-up, I'm only fully functioning half the time, I –" He stops, feeling her paws move on top of his own, keeping them still on his lap. "...Judy."

"If...whatever this is, is going to be about you and me trying to explain to the other why we're not _good enough_ , then I'm going to lose my mind." She squeeze his paws. "Nick. Do you really want to know what I see in you?"

"Well I'm a little _scared_ now – **"**

"Everything," she says, and Nick _swears_ his heart stops. "When I look at you, I see _everything._ "

"That's pretty dramatic."

"You bring it out in me."

Nick laughs. "Yeah? It's funny you say that, because I was thinking the other day, what do _I_ see in Judy Hopps?"

"And?"

He leans close, and he thinks she's the only one shaking, but he knows. It's a group effort.

"Everything." Judy ducks her head. He pushes his own under her chin, breathing her in and closing his eyes. "Absolutely everything."

 

* * *

 

There are exactly eight forms they have to fill out over the next month, and Nick has to go through an extensive interview process, separate from Judy's, to decide if they had violated any rules over the last year and a half. Nick can't possibly imagine how she's doing in her own, but he gets the go-ahead from a small committee that tells him while they find the the normal issue of student-PhD candidate relationships typically unworkable, as long as Judy stays firm in her own department, there shouldn't be a problem.

Of course the process takes _three and a half weeks_ , during which they are allowed zero contact with one another and it is a living hell, but –

A month after that day in the grove, Judy Hopps is in his apartment, shaking out his curtains.

"These are _disgusting_ , Nick. How do you _breathe?_ "

"With my lungs. In and out. What's another word for _delightful?_ "

She shrugs. "Why?"

"Just coming up with new ways to insult my students."

Judy comes around, peering over his shoulder. " _This is a delightful mess of poor sentence structure and narrative coherency. You are breaking ground in the field of writing that destroys, maims, and ridicules the senses._ " She flicks his ear. "That's _mean._ "

"Uh, _ow_ , first off. And also you should read this. It's terrible."

She shakes her head. "No thank you. I can't get involved in your coursework, remember?"

"But we're making fun of people together. It's like a fundamental part of all new relationships."

Judy laughs, going back to the balcony to bring in the curtains. "No thanks. I'll stick to my case studies."

Nick snorts. "Boring." She sighs, coming to him again and pushing his laptop closed. "I was _working_."

"And now you're not."

"Careful Miss Hopps. You're getting involved in my coursework."

"I'm giving you a break," she says and bends down to kiss him. "Take me to lunch, I'm hungry."

"So needy all the time."

She shakes her head. "All I _need_ right now is you."

"And food."

She considers him. "Yes, that, too."

"Ha! Nailed it." He stands and draws her close, kissing between her ears. "Nothing gets past this fox."

"No," she murmurs, and buries her face against his shirt. "No it doesn't."

 


	29. frail love - part one [strange times au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy wakes to a voice in her ear she can't quite place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some violence, weapon mention, amnesia. for fic a day **5/24/16**.

She wakes up, and his voice is telling her to _run._

“If you don’t go now, you won’t make it.” Judy has no idea who this is or how he knows that. She doesn’t know where his voice is coming from or why its urgency has her on two feet and bolting for the door, but -

Behind her, the wall crumbles. She is distantly aware of heat, the sound and _smell_ of explosives, bitter burning _boiling_ sulfur in her nostrils that has her lungs on _fire._ She cries, she sobs, she is _running for her life_ and -

“You’re safe, Carrots. Can you hear me still?”

Judy gasps out, “ _Yeah_ ,” then: “What did you call me?”

The voice snorts. “You’re a rabbit. I called you Carrots.”

“Original.”

“We can get creative when you’re somewhere safe. Right now this city is a disaster zone, and a lot of folks are looking for you.”

She breathes. “Why?”

“Beats me. I can get you somewhere safe, though. You just have to trust me.”

Judy nods. The voice, she realizes, is coming from a piece that’s digging hard into her ear. She adjusts it, checks herself for any damage, and starts moving.

“That’s my girl,” the voice says, a little smug. “Move out of the warehouse and onto the street in the back. Seems like it’s deserted.”

“How do you-”

“Just move, Carrots. We’ll debate logic later. Right now, we need you to _survive_ until later.”

Judy nods, and starts moving.

 

* * *

 

She has some peace for a while after escaping the stifling heat of the building where she woke. She learns that the voice in her ear is a fox and his name is Nick. He can’t tell her much more than that.

“Memory’s dodgy,” he explains, and Judy realizes -

She’s... _missing_ a lot. She tries racking her brain for something, tries finding a face for this voice that is rapidly sounding more and more familiar to her.

“I get that a lot,” he says. “Or I probably would, if I could remember if I did or not.”

“Do you...recognize me?”

Silence builds up in her ears as she trudges down the street. Every so often, a group of soldiers, maybe cops she isn’t sure, rushes past. They don’t seem to be looking for her specifically - but Nick tells her more than once to stick to the shadows, keep her ears down and senses up.

“Nick-”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I want to say yes, but…”

Judy nods. “I get it.”

“Something happened, and all I can remember is there’s a van on Eleventh street, parked in an alley. Or there was. I can’t imagine why it’d be gone, but once we get there, we’ll...sort this out.”

“You’ll be there, too?”

He pauses. “...No. I’m...somewhere else.”

Judy frowns. “Where?”

“Not sure, actually. But I’m figuring it out. You just get to the van, Carrots. I’ll deal with my own crazy.”

It’s fair, she thinks, even if she’s still scanning the skies, like this fox might be hovering above her, watching her moves. She eventually finds the van, tucked away and out of sight. It’s a good safe house, and a decent place to rest. Judy carefully opens it up and crawls in, shutting and locking it behind her. It smells like sleep, she thinks - like gentle sweat and darkness and maybe weed, she can’t be sure. Someone was living here, up until recently. She wonders -

“This was Finn’s van,” Nick says suddenly.

“Are you remembering?”

“I think so. Can’t be sure.” He sniffs. “You should get some sleep. I can see your street from here, I’ll squawk at you if there’s danger.”

“Where _are_ you?”

“Some kind of tower,” he says. “Don’t go looking,” he adds hastily. “I’m sorting this out. You keep moving and we’ll be just fine.”

Judy strips out of her jacket, synged along the edges from the explosion, ashy along the collar. She’d kill for a shower, but she finds a water bottle and a clean shirt and makes due. Some digging rewards her with new clothes, a leather jacket, and a tranq gun with ammo.

“You sound busy,” Nick murmurs.

“Your buddy had lots of junk.”

“Did he? He’s probably out of town. I feel like I remember him getting out of dodge pretty damn quick. But that’s a good thing.”

“He’ll be safe,” Judy agrees.

“Yeah.” Nick sniffs. “But from what?”

“No answers in the tower?”

“Not yet.”

Judy sighs. There’s a mass of blankets and pillows in one corner. Whoever Finn was, he was a nester, and a fox from the looks of it. He left in a rush, probably. Grabbed what he wanted and bailed Judy digs in, burrowing between blankets. Every once in a while she hears a siren or a distant, muffled loud speaker.

“They’re announcing curfew,” Nick explains. “Don’t worry. No one’s come near you. I won’t let them.”

“I trust you.”

“Good. Sleep tight, Carrots.”

 

* * *

 

_“Go, go now!”_

_“I’m not leaving you, I’m not doing this without you-”_

_“Judy, please. Please leave with him. I’ll stay with Bogo and the others, but you-”_

_“I won’t leave you. I won’t leave anyone.”_

_“Dammit, Judy-”_

**“Nick!”**

The earpiece crackles and she hears him, hears his voice and it is _peace._

“Carrots! What’s wrong, streets are empty-” She hears some shuffling and he clucks his tongue. “Your pulse is out of control, you need to calm down. I can’t have you going into shock in this van of all places.”

She swallows, listening to his voice and steadying her breathing. After a while she says, “You called me Judy.”

“Huh?”

“I had a dream, and you were in it. You called me Judy.”

Nick laughs. “Yeah? Maybe we know one another afterall.”

“Maybe. How long have I been out?”

“Few hours.” He yawns “Go back to sleep, alright? I’ll wake you up soon. I’ve almost got a plan all worked out.”

“Yeah? Does it involve food at some point?”

He laughs. “I’ll hook you up, Carrots. Promise.”

Nick wakes her a few hours later. Judy slides on the leather jacket, holsters her gun, and climbs out of the van. The streets are still empty, but Nick gives her a rough timeline.

“You’re going to a florist’s shop, it’s run by a guy called Otterton. We’ve been chatting sometimes over the channels up here. He’s holed up there with his family. He wanted to give me the details of the situation, but I said to wait for you. We’ll hear it together.”

“Be nice to fill in some blanks.”

“Would be,” he agrees. “You’re on eleventh, you need to get to Fifth.”

“I can do that.”

“Keep to the side, keep out of sight. You aren’t nocturnal, so you need to-”

“ _Nick._ I got this.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know you do. Keep me posted. I can’t see much right now, just the van and...yeah, there you are. Got your ears, Carrots. Keep ‘em down. Don’t stop until you get to Otterton’s, understand?”

“Copy that.”

“Right.” Nick seems to give her a little encouraging noise. “Good luck.”

 

* * *

 

The florist’s shop is just down the street, but Judy is blocked by a group of police officers, lounging across the way. There are people on the street, too, seemingly going about their business, shopping and selling. It’s the market, Judy realizes, so it must be well before noon - a nugget in her brain tells her that’s when it closes, and she gets a little flash of something without warning.

_A walk on a Sunday, someone’s paw grasping her own, a tail that sometimes comes up and rests on her shoulder. Someone buys her a lemonade, a fruit tart, radishes for lunch._

“Carrots.”

“Sorry.”

“If you stand there, someone’s going to see you. You’re going to have to go to the roof, I just talked with the misses. She says there’s a skylight leading to the greenhouse, think you can get up there without being seen?”

Judy inspects the building. There’s a trash can she can stash herself behind, and a set of pipes crawling up the house. Nothing she can’t handle, she thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I got this.”

Nick sighs. “Good. But do it quiet. I’ve got no clue how these guys are armed, but I assume it’s better than we are.”

“Probably. Why would Finn keep a tranq in his van?”

“Why does he have a leather jacket?” Nick laughs. “All good questions once we get out of this mess and find out what happened.”

Judy nods. “Alright.” She executes the start of her plan - behind the trash can, up the pipes, grab the edge of the roof -

“ _Those cops are moving, go go go-_ ”

Judy huffs, clamoring to the roof and keeping her head down. The skylight is a good ten feet away, she’s completely exposed, completely open -

A fight starts on the other side of the street.

“They’re looking away, go _now._ ”

Judy dashes for the skylight, yanks it open, _trips_ , falls -

 

* * *

 

Wakes up.

“-alright?”

“She’s awake now, Nick. No need to worry.”

“Shit, Carrots.” Nick’s voice is louder now, spilling through the radio on the coffee table. “You scared me.”

“What happened?”

Mr. Otterton helps her sit up and hands her a glass of water. “You fell a little ways, but I think you just got spooked. Falling is dangerous work,” he murmurs, patting her shoulder. “But you’re here with us now.”

Mrs. Otterton comes into the room, hands her a sandwich and another glass of juice. “Get some energy. Nicky said you’d be hungry.”

Judy nods, stripping out of her jacket and settling into her chair to eat. The Ottertons chat idly about their day, with Nick interjecting quietly, placing a laugh here or there. After a while he says, “Carrots?”

“...Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Better now that I’ve got food.”

“Ah.” He laughs. “The one thing I cannot give you.”

Mrs. Otterton smiles. “That’s alright. We can do that. And we can answer your questions, too. I know the both of you have been through something awful, lately.” She frowns. “You can’t even remember one another?”

Judy shakes her head. “No...Should we?”

Mr. Otterton laughs. “Yes, you should.”

Nick huffs. “Can’t you start at the beginning? Get to us later.”

“It’s all the same,” Mrs. Otterton says quietly. “But also not.”

Judy nods. “That’s alright. Just...tell me what you know. I have a feeling my brain is ready to put the pieces together.”


	30. frail love - part two [strange times au]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is hard to hear. Figuring out what to do with it is sometimes harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> practice for a later story, i think. 'boy in a tower' trope abounds. panic attacks, memory loss, vague descriptions of drama. the last part of this weird au. for fic a day **5/25/16**.

The Ottertons tell her a story of a city still living on the brink of terror. That predators and prey were still trying to sort themselves out, and the new Mayor couldn’t get things under control. So the city council stepped in, and proposed an ordinance.

“Years ago, someone suggested collars. You can only imagine how that would have worked,” Mrs. Otterton mutters.

Over the radio, Nick snorts. “Idiots.”

“Something like that, no one would have supported. But if there were a more...socially acceptable way of monitoring predator behavior and location, it could work.”

“Microchips,” Mr. Otterton _spits._ “They wanted to chip us.”

“And do...what?”

“Do you remember the savage mammal case?”

Judy nods. “Bits and pieces. It comes and goes.”

“After, they collected all that data and stored it somewhere. The chips were going to monitor heart rate, body functions. If they detected signs similar to the ones found in the savage mammals, the ZPD would come in, dart them, and secure the area.”

“The police?”

Mrs. Otterton nods. “That’s right. And _that’s_ where you come in, Judy.”

She frowns. “My...uniform. When I woke up, I was wearing part of a uniform.”

“That’s because you’re a police sergeant. And a damn good one,” Mr. Otterton adds.

“Told you there was a reason you could handle all this,” Nick says, voice tinged with pride.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Nick. You’re a detective.”

Nick _laughs._ “I am not.”

“You are. You and Judy, you-” Mrs. Otterton sighs. “Well, you two weren’t thrilled about this, let’s just say. Public opinion on the ordinance was pretty much fifty-fifty. And that included the ZPD. Half the cops in town were opposed, the other half were for it. It wasn’t a problem until the protests started, and the cops who were against the whole thing stopped setting up barricades, starting _joining_ the rioters.”

Nick whistles. “Sounds like something I’d do.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Mrs. Otterton says. “You and Judy...you led them. You weren’t having it. The city council tried to get you in on it, Judy. Had a meeting with you and everything. Your speech was...very poignant. I don’t think they really understood who they were dealing with.”

Judy pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. That...still doesn’t explain how Nick and I got here.”

Mr. Otterton nods. “After a few months the Chippers realized you weren’t going to back down. They started trying to take out your circle. Started with that cheetah friend of yours, worked their way in. Eventually, they got to Bogo.”

Nick makes a noise. “They talk about him sometimes. I get some chatter. He’s in a cell.”

“That’s a relief.” Mrs. Otterton leans back against the sofa. “We weren’t sure what happened to him.”

“What did they want?”

Mr. Otterton shrugs. “Not sure. Some folks of ours on the inside said they were trying to bribe the ones they took, then they got a little more drastic. Some kind of reformation training. Brainwashing, essentially. Don’t think it worked on any of them.”

“The plan was probably to get to you,” Nick says. “We both know of the two of us-”

“Actually…” Mrs. Otterton looks at her paws. “Actually they took you, Nick.”

He snorts. “Why would they do that?”

“...To get to Judy.”

“So Carrots and I are friends.”

Mr. Otterton smiles. “I should certainly hope so.”

“Honey-”

“They should _know_ , Charlotte.”

“I don’t think they-”

Nick and Judy groan at the same time. “ _Stop._ ” Nick makes a rattling noise on the other side. “Just stop.”

“You can tell us,” Judy adds. Her stomach twists. “We can handle it.”

Mrs. Otterton nods. “Right. You see, they wanted to get to Nick so they could get to Judy. They thought if they had him, she’d come running. Paws in the air, full on surrender, but...they didn’t bank on exactly how mad you’d get, sweetie.”

“I was…”

“They took your husband,” Mrs. Otterton says coolly. “Only an idiot or a man with a deathwish does something like _that._ ”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the story rushes by in a blur. From what Judy gathers, she took several former cops and raided the capitol, searching for Nick.

“We don’t know what you found there, but whatever happened...they kept you. You’ve been out of the public eye for three months. Your move to the warehouse was orchestrated by some of our folks on the inside, and the explosion was Nick’s plan.”

Nick says nothing. Neither he or Judy have spoken.

Mr. Otterton sighs. “We’re pretty sure you’re being held in The Spire, Nick.”

“That what it’s called?” His voice startles Judy. She flinches. Mrs. Otterton notices.

“We can talk more about how we’ll get to him tomorrow. I think...I think these kids need to process.”

“No.” Nick’s voice crackles. “I have a plan.”

“Judy needs to rest.”

“Then...then let her do that. But I’ve got some ideas to hash out. If you guys have maps of the city, get them out.”

Mr. Otterton nods. “Can do, Nicky.”

Mrs. Otterton excuses herself and takes Judy by the arm, leading her up the stairs and to a spare room. “I’ve got some clothes here you can sleep in, and you can freshen up just in there.” She pauses. “I wanted to wait. To tell you.”

“No.” Judy takes the clothes. “It’s fine. It was...it was the right choice.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” Mrs. Otterton kisses her forehead. “Rest up. If something happens, I’ll wake you.”

“Sure.” Judy watches her go, waiting until the door is shut and she hears the otter walk all the way down the stairs before she has a full-on panic attack.

It takes ten minutes of breathing into an ice cold shower before she can calm down, and after, she lays in a tshirt and pajama bottoms in the little bed, staring at the ceiling. Her ear piece is resting on the bedside table, probably a gift from the plan that set her free. She wonders if he would talk to her, or if he’s still hashing things out with Otterton downstairs.

She puts it in. Just in case.

 

* * *

 

_“You came all this way. And for what?”_

_“Where is my husband?”_

_“He’s here. Your little militia is gone though, Judy. Progress marches forth.”_

_“This isn’t progress,” she snarls. “This is only pain.”_

_The zebra in front of her clicks his tongue. “Sharp tongue. Spending a bit too much time with your fox, aren’t you? He’s a delight, by the way. I can see what you admire in him. It is a pity we had to get rid of all_ that. _”_

_“What do you-”_

_“Carrots.”_

_“Tell me what that means, what did you do to him?”_

_“Carrots-”_

_“Nick, where-”_

_“ **Judy!** ”_

She sits up, gasping for breath and yanking the ear piece out of her ear. Nick’s voice sounds on the other end, and she crams it back in. “Nick.”

“Hey, sorry I woke you. I just needed to tell you the plan.”

“I’m coming for you.”

He groans. “No, no, _no!_ You can’t just jump in, start pulling some ready-fire-aim nonsense, alright? Otterton and I have a plan, and it involves you _staying where you are._ ”

“You’re my husband, I can’t-”

“Judy.” His voice is stiff, forced. “Judy, do you remember anything about me?”

She breathes. She wants to tell him about her dream of the market, the flash of memory, a paw she’s certain is his grasping her own, a tail that is certainly his resting on her shoulder, a warmth that she _knows_ is him resting by her a night -

“That’s what I figured.”

Judy shakes her head. “If I come for you, it could spark something, trigger a memory.”

“They’re going to get me out, and we’ll be together soon. We can sort it out then.”

“I don’t want that.”

“No?” He laughs. “What do you want then, Carrots? Huh?”

She sighs. “I want to take you out myself. I want to be the first one to touch you.”

Silence. Then: “Do you think it’ll bring it all back?”

“...I can’t know that.”

Nick swallows. “Then we can’t take the risk. Otterton leaves at eight tomorrow. Don’t follow him. Don’t go after him. _Don’t_ do anything but stay put until you’re moved somewhere safe. We’re taking this operation out of the main city.”

“And going where?”

Nick laughs. “You’ll see. I promise, you’ll like the results.”

Judy fully intends on following Otterton out the door at eight, but she should have guessed -

“He left two hours ago. Nick said not to wake you…” Mrs. Otterton hangs her head.

Judy breaths. “It’s fine. It’s...it’s fine.”

“I know you wanted to be there. But I’ve got someone coming in to take you out of town soon. You’ll meet him then.”

“Okay. How am I getting out?”

Mrs. Otterton points out the kitchen window to the alley way on the other side of the house. A white van with the shop’s logo is there. The keys hang on a hook by the door. “You’ll go in the back. I’ve got something to mask your scent, and we’ll get you out of here in no time.”

“Think it’ll work?” Judy takes the cup of tea offered to her.

Mrs. Otterton shrugs. “Don’t know. But it has to, if we’ve got a chance of putting this city back together. We made some mistakes, we lost some battles, but...the war’s still on. And we’re going to win that one.”

 

* * *

 

The ride out of the city is terrifying. All Judy can think is that whatever Mrs. Otterton put on her, it won’t be enough to mask her scent as they travel through the city. She doesn’t meet the driver, doesn’t hear from them at all until they’re out on the road and traveling over hills and he says, “You can come out now, girly.”

Judy crawls out from under the flowers and looks into the driver’s seat. “...Finnick?”

“Hey, you recognize me?”

“I...think so. I stayed in your van.”

The fox chuckles. “Glad it was useful. That’s my jacket, by the way.”

“Oh.” Judy looks down. “You can have it.”

“Nah, keep it. Suits you. The new face of the revolution.”

Judy nods, then - “Did they get-”

“Yeah, we got our boy in the tower down and safe. He’s at the drop location. We’re almost there.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Big’s mansion. A second one, way outside of the city. Something deep in the woods. I don’t think anyone’s gonna look for you guys there. Van might be a give away, but the Bigs wouldn’t publicly take a side on all this, and neither did the Ottertons. But they’re definitely on our team.”

“Right.” Judy stays quiet until a large house looms up in front of them, Finnick helps her out once the van stops, leading her inside and down a set of stairs.

“Nick’s asleep, I guess. You should be, too. Get some rest, you can talk later.”

“But I-”

“Judith.” They turn, and a polar bear clutching a shrew is towering over them. “My child. You’re safe.”

“Mr. Big.”

“I suspect you don’t remember me, but that’s alright. In due time. You and Nicky have been through the worst of it. Your chief is doing better.”

“Bogo is here?”

“Most everyone is. Give it time. Peace will return.” He extends his paws and Judy moves forward, kissing either cheek. “You have a beautiful room. Enjoy it.”

They go, and Finnick tugs on the sleeve of her jacket, leading her to another wing of the house. “For you, I guess. Someone’ll come get you later, and you and Nick can sort yourselves out. It’ll take time, probably. He doesn’t even recognize me, and we’ve been friends for years.”

“He knew about the van.”

“Otterton told him where it was, but he remembered me on his own. Makes me hopeful.”

Judy nods, stepping into her room. “Thanks, Finnick.”

“Sure. Just...rest up. We gotta get back out there and fix this mess, you hear.”

“Yeah, I hear.”

Finnick squeezes her paw. “I’ll see you later.” He leaves her, and Judy stands in the middle of the room and waits. Waits for the floor to open up, for the roof to come off, for the bottom on all of this to drop out.

But it doesn’t. She changes into some clothes she finds in the closet, a little note that says, _All for you! - Fru-Fru_ Judy smiles, thinks about herself having friends. Thinks about herself falling in love. Thinks about marriage.

Thinks about Nick.

Thinks she might never wake up from whatever this is, right before she goes to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Judy? Judy.”

“Mmph.”

“Hey, get up. You’re babbling in your sleep.”

“S’early, Nick. Five minutes.”

He laughs. “No can-do, Carrots. We’ve got processing to do. And then work.”

Judy opens her eyes.

And there he is.

At least, she assumes. The fox stares, and she stares back.

“It’s you.”

He nods. “It’s me.”

“You got out.”

“Took some work, but…” He shrugs. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

“I can’t remember you.”

“I know…” He swallows. “I’m...trying. But-”

Judy sits up. “Your name is Nick, and I’m Judy. We got married.”

“Not that long ago, either. Like, a year? Less?” Nick laughs. “Worst ever.”

“I can’t remember, but I will. I...have to, don’t I?”

Nick takes her paw in his. “We will,” he murmurs. “We’ll do this together.”

“I dreamt about you. They...took you.”

“Reformation,” Nick spits. “They did it. It worked, for a while. You came to get me and I...I tried to…” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Judy moves closer. “They tried to make you hurt me.”

“Do you remember?”

“No. I just assumed…”

“Yeah.” Nick laughs. “But it backfired. I short circuited, lost everything. I didn’t even know my damn _name_ until Otterton told me. Someone, probably our guy inside, got me put in the Spire. No one even knew what was up there. Turns out it was busted radios and equipment that wasn’t too hard to fix. I could plan.”

“You did good, Nick.”

He smiles. “Feels good to hear you say that. Your voice...I wanted to hear it so bad, I just didn’t know that...that it was _exactly_ what I wanted to hear, you know?”

“I know.” Judy cups his cheek. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“We are,” he murmurs.

“They won’t tear us apart again. We’ll only grow back stronger.”

Nick looks at her. “You think so?”

Judy nods. “I wouldn't count us out just yet.”


	31. sift through the gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You're sure?” Nick pulls back, looking her right in the eyes. “Look at this face. This is the face you promise to love and cherish and _not punch_ for the rest of your life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catching up on fic-a-day because real life wouldn't let me post. this is for **5/26/16**. this is like the prequel to [this one-shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6192814/chapters/15112027), which is the prequel to the wedding fic that will _eventually_ get finished.

Judy's never been around this many elephants in her entire life. Everyone is ten times her size, ten times louder than her, and, frankly, ten times drunker than she is. This probably has more to do with the fact that every time a bottle of wine or champagne finds its way to their table it's mostly empty. Nick is bitter.

“It's a _wedding_ ,” he says. “And I took a cab here. If I'm not drunk in an hour, we're leaving.”

“We can't, it's Francine and she invited us personally. We said we'd stay.”

“Carrots.” He shakes an empty bottle at her. “This is a _travesty._ ”

Judy sighs. “Two minutes,” she announces, and vanishes in a sea of legs.

 

* * *

 

She comes up for air fifteen minutes later with an entire, unopened bottle of wine. Nick kisses her, right there.

“I knew there was a reason we were doing this.” He gestures between them and Judy rolls her eyes. “To us, Carrots.”

“To us.” They tap their glasses together and turn their collective attention to the reception. The ceremony had been very pleasant, but very different from the ones she'd been to in the Burrow. Nick tells her that all the fox weddings he went to as a kid were a lot more serious – always on Sunday mornings, with long, music-less ceremonies for the most part. “Raucous party after though.”

“We'll find a balance,” Judy muses, mostly because referring to their hypothetical marriage usually unnerves Nick enough that, when drunk enough, he'll spit his drink on random passerby.

But, this time...

“Sure,” he says. “Though I'm _sure_ you bunnies known how to party a lot harder than you let on.”

“True.” She glances at him. “So the idea of a Hopps-Wilde union doesn't...freak you out?”

“Nope.”

“No visceral, knee-jerk reaction?”

“Don't think so.”

“Not thinking about bolting?”

Nick looks at her. “Judith Hopps. Are you _trying_ to get a rise out of me?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs. “You're terrible at it. And I think you've been underestimating just how much more of my life I want to spend with you.” Nick drains his glass and leans forward. “I'll give you a hint,” he whispers. “It's a _long ass_ time.”

 

* * *

 

Francine finally finds them and talks them both into dancing. They're both pretty far gone – Judy had managed to snag another mostly full bottle of...something, and she's seeing double every so often, but Nick's a good lead.

“I took classes, don't make fun of me.”

“I'm going to.”

He laughs. “My mom thought social dancing was very important. I took a lot of classes. There was this girl who was always my partner, I had a huge crush on her.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Came from a nice fox family on the other side of town. We got on pretty well. Her parents were super rich and super snooty.” He sniffs. “After the classes ended we weren't allowed to see each other anymore. That's what she said.”

Judy frowns. “That's...” Nick shrugs. “Hey.” She squeezes his paw. “That _sucks._ And you are allowed to be upset about it.”

“I'm only telling you this because we're drunk and you basically proposed.”

“I did.” She leans forward, resting her head on his chest. “I do love you, you know that?”

“Judy. Yes. Of course I know. Stop second guessing that part of this. There's never a single moment where I don't doubt that, okay?” He kisses between her ears. “Francine looks very nice.”

“Doesn't she?”

“I think you'd look great in her dress – _ow._ Ow that _hurt._ ”

“Don't say things like that.”

“I'm just saying! It's a nice style, we could just shrink it down for you–”

Judy rolls her eyes. “You are not allowed to plan anything.”

“Says you, I'm _great_ at planning.”

She snorts. “Yeah, says the fox whose idea of meal planning last week was 'that experimental vegan place' every night.”

He gives her a little nudge. “You _liked it._ ”

 

* * *

 

They manage to say goodbye at a mostly decent time and end wind up in a cab home. Judy rests her head on his shoulder and squeezes his paw. “You'd marry me?”

“I'd marry you tomorrow,” Nick murmurs.

“That's not like, wine-speak?”

“It was prosecco, so no.” He kisses one of her ears. “We could do it this week, you know. Go to the courthouse, invite our friends, walk out married.”

“Your mom and my parents–”

“Would _get over it._ ” He looks at her. “I'd do it. I mean it.”

Judy sits up. “Are you serious?”

“I'm the most serious a serious fox could be.”

She swallows. “So...so you want to.”

“More than anything.”

A sort of manic laugh bubbles up and she throws her arms around him. “Yes! Yes, okay. Okay, let's get married.”

“You're sure?” Nick pulls back, looking her right in the eyes. “Look at this face. This is the face you promise to love and cherish and _not punch_ for the rest of your life.”

“I've _never_ punched you.”

“Not yet,” he says, tone strict. But he laughs and embraces her again. “Then let's do it. Monday. We'll get the papers. We'll do this thing.”

Judy smiles. She smiles and she feels something soft and warm and tangible swell up in her chest, just before he dips her in the backseat to kiss her the rest of the way home.

The cab driver only smiles.


	32. apple candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ocean separates the thing she wants from the thing she was given, and Nick still can't cross it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catching up still on fic-a-day. this was for **5/27/16**. a lot of you asked for a follow-up to my break up fic "hard candy." this is that follow up but...it's probably not what you wanted.

It's only a stray book, but it's enough.

Six months after it's over, Judy likes to think she's got it together. She's strong. She was the one who ended things, and she did it for a good reason. She did it to make them both better, because together they weren't getting that way. Together, it was getting worse, it was getting _hard_ , and the day she packed the last of his stray belongings was the day she breathed clean for the first time in months.

Until this stupid book.

It's poetry, something very mod, very chic, very _Nick._ Something so unlike the rest of his life, but the style is exactly how he likes to talk – too fast, too clever, too quick for anyone to read between the lines.

And now she has it in her hands, and she's fighting off a panic attack and she's wondering what it would be like to hear his voice –

_She wants to hear his voice._

He'd pick up. Probably. Maybe. She's not sure. Judy wants to believe he would, that he'd answer when she called and talk her through another bad dream and recite one of these stupid poems from memory and come over and _kiss her_ –

She doesn't want that. She doesn't want him to kiss her, she doesn't want to _be kissed_ she wants to be loved and those are very different things.

An ocean separates the thing she wants from the thing she was given, and Nick still can't cross it.

And that's why she can't call him and that's why she can't give him the book back right now and that's why she can't share this space with him.

She loves him. Judy _loves Nick_ and she's worried he thinks she doesn't, but there's no way to tell him that without giving him the wrong idea. She can't tell him she loves him and expect him to want to keep things the way they are.

Because things need to stay the way they are. Because all she could think as she fell further and further was _too fast too fast too fast_ and now she's –

Alone.

She is alone.

She needs to _be alone_ , for a while. For now. And maybe they'll figure it out.

(she wraps the book in a dishtowel and shoves in into a drawer)

Maybe they'll get it together.

(she'll drop it on his desk next week while he's out, he'll understand because he needs to understand and there is no longer a plan b)

But it's okay that it's broken, for now. It's okay that it's over, for now.

It's okay, because it has to be.

And it's okay, because it needs to be.

It's okay – because she trusts him to be better, trusts herself to _get better_.

And that's all she can really expect.


	33. stranger than

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy Hopps was a character he had created, but in reality she was here, living her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sort of a "stranger than fiction" au. trying out this ship with a different tense. some backposting. for fic a day **5/28/16**.

Nick blinked twice, _hard._ Whatever was happening was definitely _not happening._ It made no sense, it could not be explained rationally. No one in the world, in any right sort of mind could tell Nick exactly _how_ any of this was close to reality.

Judy Hopps was a character on the page. _His_ page, actually. She did not exist outside the cleverly crafted world he had constructed for her. And yet, here she was, calmly explaining to an enraged zebra precisely why she had ticketed his card. _Nick had written almost this exact scene_ , but here she was, saying it three days later, the words flowing freely.

Judy Hopps was a character he had created, but in reality she was here, living her life, and had been for twenty-four years. The concreteness of her form, the fluidity of her speech and mannerisms spoke volumes about her. Volumes that Nick already knew – because he _thought_ he'd invented her.

After a while, she went back to work, but she seemed to know Nick was watching. She didn't approach. It was smart – her parents had warned her about foxes before she'd come to the city. Nick knew this. He'd written it. The urge to grab her, to demand how she'd come to be, was angry, spitting on his insides. He wanted to know everything about her, to see if it matched with his own reality. Instead, he only watched, until she finally gave up with a sigh and turned to him with a smile.

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

Nick started. He glanced at his paws, for some reason – maybe he held an excuse there, precrafted and ready to throw like a grenade, pull the pin, run and hide –

“No,” he said. “I'm only...I've lived in this city my whole life. I feel like I'd noticed a new meter maid.”

She laughed. “You're funny,” she said, with a smile. “That's a good line.”

Nick swore. “Sorry, _sorry._ I'm not trying to pick you up on the job, seriously, I just...I've never seen you before.”

Judy shrugged. “It's a big city.”

“I know, I just...I know everyone.”

“Oh _do_ you?”

Nick nodded, opening his expression. “I do.”

She sighed. “I've been working this beat for about three years,” she explained.

Nick froze. “You what?”

“Three years. Up and down these streets. I have people who just expect a ticket from me these days,” she said, and smiled. “Like you, Mr. Otterton.” She waved to the florist as he passed, and he tipped his hat. “But I don't know _you._ ”

“You've...worked for the ZPD for _three years._ ”

“Yes, sir.”

He frowned. _This isn't right. This isn't what I wrote._

“I'm...I'm sorry?”

“No,” Nick said. “No, you just moved here.”

“I assure you, sir, I didn't.”

“You just moved here and you want to be a cop, but your chief won't let you–”

Judy's expression fell. “Sir, have you been drinking.”

Nick flinched. “I gotta go,” he half-said, half-shouted, and bolted for the subway, leaving a very confused meter maid in his wake.

 

* * *

 

Back home, he tore into his notes for his latest novel, digging through backstory and plot, searching for _anything_ he might have written down –

Nothing. Every note was the same. Every draft was the same. She had moved here _months_ ago, but the real Judy Hopps had been handing out tickets for three years. In his manuscript, she was hungry for a different life, but this real, breathing Judy seemed content. Except for that moment, before he'd run from her. She seemed about to argue, or say something else. Instead...

 _Stupid_ , he thought. _Like you made her or something. This is all a coincidence. You probably got a ticket from her, when you still drove. Idiot._

No, he finally decided. He had not created her, she did not exist because he had started writing down her name. Judy Hopps had always been real, and Nick was simply losing his mind. It was bound to happen eventually. Everyone said so.

He put away his notes and turned out the light in his study. Maybe tomorrow he'd realize she had just been a sort of fever dream, and he'd see another mammal doing her route, handing out tickets.

Yes, he thought, just before bed. This would certainly be the case.

 

* * *

 

It was certainly _not_ the case.

Judy Hopps was still driving around in her little scooter-golf cart hybrid, the same he wrote about, and was currently listening loudly to the radio. Nick stayed hidden behind a herd crossing the street. She had grown upset yesterday, and he didn't want to risk getting called in. _Fox stalks rabbit through the city._ That'd be a good headline for his mother to call him about.

She saw him, though. He had lurked too long in the same place, and now she was coming over here and _shit_ he was going to get arrested and Nick was –

“How did you know that about me?”

“Officer, I swear I'm not loitering.”

She shook her head, pointing her finger at her chest. “I'm _asking_ you a question. _How_ did you know that about me yesterday?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Lucky guess.”

“Lie. That's lie number one. Two more and I make a radio call.”

Nick groaned. “Look, I'm not trying to be weird, I just...wanted to see you again.”

“Lie number two, fox.”

He tugged on an ear and shook his head. “ _Fine!_ Fine, I will tell you. I'm an author and I'm writing a book right now. It's about a rabbit, and she moves to the city to be a cop. But they make her a meter maid instead, and she wants to fight them on it. She arrests some weasel and tries to make a big show and she finally proves herself–”

Judy held up her paw. “Did you say that she becomes a cop?”

“Well _no_ , you interrupted me. But, yeah. She does.”

“After how long?”

Nick shrugs. “Less than a year?”

Neither said anything. The traffic and pedestrians continued on, but Nick and Judy remained trapped in their own little world. He finally said, “The rabbit's name is Judy Hopps. She's from Bunnyburrow and her parents gave her a can of fox repellent and called her every night.”

She looked at him. “They just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Because they worried they'd made the wrong choice, but you were too old for them to hold back.”

“They'd never let any of us go before. Not like that.”

“They just wanted to let you know that they loved you,” he said. “And they were proud of how brave you'd become.”

Judy swallowed. “My shift is over in fifteen minutes. Meet me at the Snarlbucks on the corner.”

 

* * *

 

Over coffee, Nick told her about his books. He told her about this one, about how he'd had a dream that he'd met a rabbit, and she looked a lot like Judy. “Talked like you too,” he added.

She was not comfortable, though Nick tried to help. Instead, she drank tea in silence and listened as Nick explained the life he'd written about, and the one that matched her own.

After he had finished, he waited for the information to process, and wondered if she would finally make that radio call. It sounded an awful lot like he'd been stalking her, but she made no move for the radio at her belt. Instead she said quietly, “How does the book end?”

“Haven't written that yet,” he said sheepishly. “But the plan is–”

“Don't tell me.” She stood, abandoning her tea on the table. “I have no idea if what you're saying is true, Mr. Wilde. I believe you're an author, and I believe you're innocent of following me and stealing my identity. But I can't believe it's all a coincidence.” She paused, picking up her tea and taking a sip. “If you change the rabbit's name, I'll let it go. I'll even read the book.”

“Let it–”

“You realize if you told anyone else about this, they'd make a lot of bad assumptions, right?”

“I...yeah.”

“So I won't be telling anyone. All I ask is you change her name, though I suppose I won't know if you don't until the book is published.”

Nick shook his head. “No, I can do that. I was planning to anyway, made me feel weird–”

“Yes,” she said dryly. “I'm sure all of this has been very upsetting for you.” She took one more sip of her tea. “Thank you for being honestly with me, Mr. Wilde. I'll let you know when I read your book.”

 

* * *

 

It was another six months before Nick heard from her again. The book had been selling well, critics had received it with praise, and he had given an interview on C-SPAN just yesterday, talking about the novel and his process.

He was surprised, then, to find a letter from her in the mail, but not surprised about its brevity:

_Mr. Wilde –_

_I enjoyed the book. You are a talented writer, and I've read a few of your older novels now as well. Thank you for writing about me (sort of). Last week I talked to the chief about me moving on to other work, and he was shockingly amicable. I had wanted to tell you when we spoke why the real Judy Hopps never did challenge her position, but it would require time I didn't have, and I won't do it in a letter. Let's meet again, soon. I'd like you to know the story you didn't write. Perhaps it will inspire you._

_Best,_

_Judy Hopps_

Nick smiled. It was a good letter – concise, to the point, and hopeful. She'd written her phone number at the end, next to _(please text)_. Nick saved it in his phone – he didn't have the time tonight. Dinner with his agent was a priority, and there was a phone interview to be conducted in the morning.

But he could picture her, hunched over the little desk he could imagine so clearly, carrot-pen scratching on paper she'd stolen from the precinct.

 _Perhaps it will inspire you_ , she'd written, and Nick chuckled.

He almost texted her that the letter alone had been enough, but he'd tell her that face-to-face.

He had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time they met.


	34. judith's theme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [instrumental piece]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some fluff, imagined as a type of serenade. backposted for fic a day, **5/29/16**. this thing started at a bad time, and it's ending at a bad time. i've got things finished, but i'm also in the middle of finishing my costumes for a con and working 9-hour days. so the posting is slow coming but i'm almost there.
> 
> **note: this story will not be ending when fic-a-day is over, i'll always dump one-shots and drabbles here, they'll just stop being daily, most likely. at least for a while. i have lots of chaptered projects to finish/start.

Soft, in the morning. The sun filters in through the curtains and he opens his eyes, already awake, already coaxing himself from a dream – and then, _reality._ Her face is there, relaxed, gentle without its stubbornness, at ease as the morning crawls in. It is Sunday. They have the day to themselves. Nick knows she'll have plans – his rabbit always does – but he would be content to let the day fade away without moving. To lay in bed and talk, laugh, kiss – she would make breakfast and bring it back, and they would stay right there, willingly and happily trapped between one hour and the next.

She moves.

The spell is broken.

The dam of the day cracks open, and Nick feels her shift into his embrace.

 

* * *

 

Her thoughts had never come easy to him. Truth being: they still don't. He pries and guesses and pretends, but always what is on her mind remains a mystery to him. Of course, she is willing to tell, more than willing to spell and sound out her thoughts, angry only sometimes when he cannot seem to guess her next move.

“You're unpredictable,” he always says, even though they both know – he can always spot what she _might_ do. It's second nature to him, to know where she'll go, what she could say. In predictable, contextual situations, Nick might as well be Judy, and Judy is beginning to understand how to be Nick.

But she never fails to surprise. She never fails to shock at what turns out to be infuriating to her, or completely unjustified. She never fails to catch him off guard on days where he thinks he's done _exactly_ the right thing, and _then_ –

“Do you like surprises?” she asks suddenly, as if the thought had not occurred before. “Does it upset you when –”

“No,” he interrupts. “It doesn't.” Nick reaches out and she goes to him. “You can surprise me any time you'd like, Officer Hopps.”

Judy hums against him. Sunday marches on.

 

* * *

 

For breakfast, he humors her. They dress and venture out, winding around buildings and streets and finding themselves at a little farmer's market. Judy says it almost smells like home – Nick's been only once, so he can't really argue, but it does make the air smell different when you're surrounding by root vegetables and corn and tomatoes laid out in baskets with the earth they were born in still clinging to their skins. Like a strange after-birth, something accepted and wanted. Judy fills her little co-op tote with parsnips and fresh fruit, strawberry preserves and warm bread. They go home and make coffee, spreading the preserves on toast and watching the morning news.

Later, she'll bake the parsnips with herbs and cheese, probably tease him for his tape collection, tease him for the turntable he's carried with him since he was fifteen, the records that his mother always said were his fathers, the sounds that permeated his childhood – jazz and opera, bluegrass and soft 80's rock.

“Play your mom's favorite record,” she'll probably say, and Nick will smile and flip through the box and they'll lay on the floor and look at the ceiling and sing the words they both know by heart.

 

* * *

 

Sunday is Sunday. It's their day – no work, usually. They'll both bring home paperwork sometimes, chastising one another for it, not really getting anything done. Today, there are no papers. They talk about work, but that sort of chat stays to a minimum. Nick saw Bogo once at the farmer's market – they both pretending not to notice.

There is an unspoken rule that some things are just _your thing_ and other things belong to everyone – and still others belong only to you and the one you love.

Nick goes to the farmer's market because he loves Judy. He suspects Bogo goes because he has a weak spot for those organic radishes, but who knows –

Maybe there's someone. He poses the question to Judy, who reminds him that they're breaking the rule, but considers it anyway.

“He's busy, but I could see him loving someone. You should just ask.”

“You ask.”

Judy shrugs. “Maybe. Since you're too chicken.”

“You are absolutely right, I have the constitution of poultry and will not be inquiring about our boss's love life. Astute observation, my darling.”

She snorts and gives him a shove. “Dork.”

“Like you don't absolutely love it.”

She sighs, leaning against him and closing her eyes.

“I do,” she murmurs. “I absolutely do.”


	35. the gift, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All predators are born with the Gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're jumping back in with some multi-part thing that I literally can't even tell you how it's going to end so.

The door snaps closed behind her, and the little rabbit pads through the room, carefully making her way to the other side of the observation desk. Her chair is waiting for her, adjusted for height and at a perfect angle. The other side of the glass is empty, until the heavy metal door opens and two hippos bring in a scrawny, scruffy looking fox. _NW8125F_. The other researcher attached to the subject was promoted, Judy was selected to take his place and inherit his caseload. This is her first time with NW8125F.

He is settled into his spot in the chair, strapped by his wrists, and angled to face her. Judy is taken aback, at first, by how pointedly he stares. In other rooms, they can’t see her, but in this one they can. Not all take advantage of this. She clears her throat, leans forward and speaks into the microphone.

“NW8125F--”

“That’s a mouthful,” he drawls, not for the first time, she suspects.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she agrees.

“That’s not my name.”

“...I know,” she says.

“My name is Nick,” the fox supplies, trying to give her something. Anything. Protocol says she shouldn’t call them by their names. Here, the handbook says, they are subjects of the Zootopian government, and remain anonymous for their own safety.

But he wants to give this to her. Judy is new at this. Judy’s empathy, her mentors have said, is too great for this line of work. He’s throwing her a bone.

Judy takes it.

“Alright. My name’s Judy.”

 

* * *

 

The first predator born with a Gift was a tiger cub, almost forty years ago. After, it happened to almost all of them. In textbooks, they called it a ‘supernatural snowball effect’, like it was a kind of rolling mutation. At first, small groups within species were born with them, mostly lions and tigers. Then it seemed to “spread.”

Trends appeared. The larger the predator, the weaker the Gift. The smaller the predator, the more concentrated the Gift seemed to be.

Nick’s Gift was incredibly strong. Not as strong as EO4415O, and subsequent family members, Judy noted later that evening -- the otters were deadly, if they became emotional. But the fox was strong, and he’d been in solitary confinement for almost killing a guard.

Telepathy was not uncommon, but predators exhibited it in different ways. Nick’s was strong, but controlled. Other foxes in the facility had issues keeping their Gift in check, but he didn’t struggle. In their second session, Judy asks when he had first gotten his Gift under control, but Nick can’t remember.

“My mother was fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Is your mother here?”

“Somewhere. Everyone’s here, aren’t they?”

“You know that isn’t true, Nick.”

He snorts. “Right. It’s just us dangerous ones. The ones you can’t trust.”

“You exploded a car.”

“I had a good reason.” Judy shifts her notes and makes a few comments in her book. “Are you a doctor?” Nick asks.

“I’m getting my doctorate. This is for my dissertation.”

Nick snorts. “I feel so special.”

“You understand you’re not here to be punished, don’t you?” He raises a brow. “When you can be trusted to use your Gift the right way, you’ll be released. That’s how it is.”

“Is it?” Nick leans forward. “How long have _you_ been here, almost-doctor Judy?”

“Four months.”

“Anyone been released?”

“Not under my caseload--”

“But you just got this caseload, from Lukas. He got a fancy promotion and you got his reject cases so you could putter around here for a semester, write a book, and go somewhere nice, somewhere that doesn’t keep freaks like me locked up.”

“You’re not a freak.”

“And you didn’t answer my question,” he snaps. “Have you seen anyone get released?”

Judy frowns.

There was...one, wasn’t there? No, that was something else, something strange. Not a release. She can’t describe it. But there has to have been one --

Right?

“Let me know when you figure it out,” Nick says, and leans away from the window.

 

* * *

 

Clawhauser is her most pleasant case. He’s so calm the facility has him doing filing, and he enjoys it. He’s not as strong as Nick, but he’s nothing to laugh about. He pauses in his work as Judy comes by to assess him, a guard always present.

On her way out, she says, “Do you know anyone who’s been released?”

“Do _I_ know anyone? Good question.” He picks up a stack of work and frowns. “Jeez, Hopps. Puttin’ me on the spot here.”

“Forget I asked, it’s alright.”

Clawhauser shakes his head. “It’s fine. But I don’t think I have. You’re supposed to be ready, right?”

“If you can use your Gift the right way--”

“No, I know all that. I just mean...no one here is that kind of predator, Judy. We’ve all lost control. Who’s to say we won’t do it again?”

 

* * *

 

She comes back to him, and he knows.

“Bet it was that cheetah, is he still on your caseload?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

“He doesn’t know anyone who got out, does he?”

“NW8125F. That’s enough.”

Nick scowls. “ _Fine._ ”

He doesn’t answer her questions for the rest of the day, but by the end of the session, Judy’s tired of asking the same ones anyway.


	36. there's no fighting in the war room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisitor Hopps is doing her best, but sometimes her emotions get the better of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to imagine darkspawn are all like extinct animals and corypheus looks like a dodo bird.

Judy has to keep reminding herself – she isn’t just the Hopps family representative anymore. She isn’t just her mother’s daughter, her father’s favored, her sisters’ hero – she isn’t even the Herald anymore.

_She’s the Inquisitor._

So, really, she should be a little better about keeping her cool around _certain_ members of her party who have _certain_ quirks and personalities. Quirks like calling the Hinterlands a “grand ol’ time” after they kill their fifth wave of demons. Quirks like asking random party members of they remember the last tree they passed in the Graves. Quirks like _talking incessantly in the Mire when they are trying not to make any noise_ –

You know. Quirks like _that._

When they get back to Skyhold, she’s _mad._ Madder than she probably should be, considering she has an army to lead, a war to win, and an enemy to destroy. She has responsibilities now, beyond those entrusted to her by her family. She matters at a level beyond what she used to, and blowing up at foxes with bad attitudes is a poor way to show off her leadership skills.

So she waits. She sends a messenger along to tell Nick Wilde that the Inquisitor is waiting for him in the war room, and settles into a chair.

The door swings open, and there he is, in all his unbound, uncaring glory – looking rather…like he _does_ care.

“Inquisitor.” He bows his head ever so slightly. “You wanted to see me?”

Judy straightens up in her chair. He’s a practiced liar, a skilled deceiver – it isn’t just the fox in him, it’s who he _is._

Effecting an air of melancholy is simply just another act, just another trick she won’t fall for.

“I found your behavior during our trek through the Fallow Mire this week to be disappointing.”

He snorts. “Is there a draft in here, Inquisitor? Because you’re being _awfully_ windy.”

Judy stands and crosses the room to him in two steady leaps. He flinches, and she thinks, _Good._

“You consistently undermine my leadership, you show complete disregard for the mission plan, and you make _everything_ into a joke! We’re at _war_ , fox. There’s nothing _about this_ that is _funny._ ” She has one finger in his chest, but he holds his own against her, one brow lifting up as he takes in her tirade. Wilde shifts his stance, his tail flicking once before he says, arms open wide, _inviting_ another attack –

“It _is_ war, your Inquisitorialness. That’s why the world could use a few extra laughs.”

Judy scowls. “At the expense of everyone else, then?”

“You mean at the expense of _yourself._ ”

She pulls back. “…Maybe.”

“Right. You would prefer that I not laugh at you, because _you_ think I don’t like you.”

Judy feels her ear twitch without permission. “…You don’t. You haven’t, since the start of this. You can’t stand me at all, I know that. _I know that._ ”

Nick tips his head to the side, gives her that _smile_ that makes her just a little bit crazy.

“Do you, Inquisitor? Because it seems to me that there’s an awful lot about war in general that you just don’t have figured out yet.” He steps back. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t more than a few gaps where a certain fox is concerned either.”

 

* * *

 

She goes to bed, _mad._

Well – she tries to go to bed. She tosses and turns, rolls to one side and then the other before getting up, dressing quickly, and slipping down the stairs. The hall is empty, the fire having gone out hours before, the last remaining embers dying in peace. Judy seems to take the heat with her as she passes, but it dissipates in the mountain air as she steps outside, and _breathes._

This world is hard, now. It has been since she was a girl. She longs, briefly, for home. She longs for her burrow in the Marches, for her parents and many, many sisters. She longs for _anything_ that will take her from here, even the near-laughable suitors her mother had found for her, just before she’d thrown in her lot to go with the others to the Conclave.

 _And see?_ a voice says. _You’re only here because you got lucky. You could have been dead._

“Better dead than married to someone I don’t even _love._ ”

“Am I hearing things? Was our great savior once _engaged?_ ”

Judy groans. “Go _away_ , Wilde.” She turns and finds him in the entryway to the hall.

“Nonsense. You’re clearly running off somewhere to brood. Allow me to walk with you.”

“I don’t need your assistance.”

He extends an arm. “The stairs are icy this evening, Inquisitor. Wouldn’t want you taking an unexpected fall.”

Judy tests the stone, and begrudgingly takes the fox’s arm. “Thank you,” she mumbles.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“ _Stop it._ ”

Nick chuckles. “You really think I don’t like you, don’t you?”

“I did.”

“Did.”

Judy sighs. “Well you _admitted_ that it wasn’t the truth, so I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, I suppose.”

“How generous.”

“I’m trying,” she admits, and feels the rumble as Nick laughs.

“Maker take us all.”


	37. rock candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick flashes those teeth, and Judy smiles. “What can I say, Carrots. Some things, they never change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as part of the last four stories i'm writing for this collection, i'm wrapping up the very short story told in "hard candy" and "apple candy" with something a bit longer, set a ways into the future.

“Chief.” A hoof taps against her door and Judy looks up from her notes. “Got a sec?”

She nods, taking off her glasses and setting them on the desk. “Sure, Badge, what’s up”

“Just wanted to know if you could sign off on these sergeant promotions.” The badger hands her a folder and Judy takes it, replacing her glasses and glancing over the names. She gives it a quick look, pausing only once, before scrawling her name at the bottom. Badge reaches out to take it, but she keeps a grip on the corner.

“I’ll take them to Renee’s office,” Judy says quietly. “You head home, day’s over Badge.”

“You sure Chief?”

Judy nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He gives her a nod heads out of her office. Judy leans back in her chair and looks over the list of names again, allowing herself to smile.

_Nice one, slick._

 

* * *

 

“Of course, we all remember when Sergeant Wilde leapt from his squad car in the middle of a chase and directed traffic while also managing to arrest three different members of the Timberwolves. How you got Zootopia traffic to bend to your will that day, Wilde, is a damn mystery.” The audience laughs and Nick smirks as he stands at attention. Judy sits on the other side of the stage, listening to his captain as he talks about Nick’s accomplishments, the medals he’s been awarded and the high profile arrests he’s made. Judy’s _proud_ , and she can’t stop herself from smiling.

_It’s called a hustle, sweetheart._

The ache comes a moment later, of course, unbidden. That’s always been the worst part about this, the little heartbreaks that come without warning, without daring to ask if she’s prepared to feel them. It’s been _years_ , she knows how much Nick’s life has changed since their brief time spent in love, but sometimes Judy gets flashes of what ifs, and she wonders.

Nick’s wearing his new blues, and the promotion suits him. He’s the last one today, and Judy supposes that’s appropriate. She stands, applauding with the others, and taking her place at the podium. Or trying to, at least. Someone’s forgotten her stepstool. She leans around the edge and says, “I haven’t fired anyone yet, maybe today’ll be my lucky day.” Laughter ripples through the crowd, and a cadet brings her little ladder. Judy steps up and adjusts her microphone. “Much better.”

Judy turns to the newly promoted sergeants. She knows them all, and they smile broadly. Nick gives her nod.

“This is my first promotion ceremony. Not ever, but as your chief. I came to this city several years ago, and I never expected to be here, to address you this way. I’ve watched these officers grow, even served alongside some them. We’ve weathered the scandals and the tragedies, that terrible Gazelle-induced traffic jam. A brief moment of silence for the time wasted that day.” Another ripple of laughter. “But through it all, we’ve held true to our principals. We’ve trusted in the motto of the ZPD and we have become a more concerned, community-focused department. I have felt the connection between us and the residents of Zootopia.” She turns to the sergeants. “I know we ask a lot of you, and I know I’ve asked a lot from you personally over the years, but I have one more thing I need for you to do.” She looks back at the crowd. “Don’t give up. _Never_ give up. We have overcome great obstacles together. We have _made history._ Let’s not stop now. Let’s keep it going. I salute you, sergeants, and implore you to work harder than ever. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The little jazz band plays in the corner of the hall as Judy poses with the sergeants and the mayor, fields questions from the papers, and makes her rounds. Little greetings of, “Chief,” and “Hopps” filter through. She catches Bogo, emerged from his slumber of retirement, and they have a quiet talk.

“Good speech,” he says. “Nice and short.”

“Learned from you.”

He nods. “Proud of you, Hopps. You’ve done well.” Glancing out at the crowd, he asks, “Any regrets?”

Judy sighs. “A few, here and there. Nothing I lose much sleep over.”

“That’ll come later. Everyone’s watching.”

“To be fair sir, everyone’s been watching me since I got here. And not always in the best way.”

He puts a hoof over his heart. “Are you going to guilt an old man in his retirement?”

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

Bogo laughs and rests his hoof on her shoulder. “You’ll do fine, Hopps. I know it.”

Judy smiles and continues to make her way through. She poses for a selfie with Clawhauser, gets talked into a glass of wine, and does another interview. It’s a good day. It’s a gentle thing, and she lets it wash over her, holds the feeling of it all close and stores it away for later.

“You sounded great up there, Chief.”

Judy turns. “Sergeant Wilde. Congratulations.”

He laughs. “Thanks.”

“I’m really happy for you. You earned this.”

“Hey, you know what they say. Hard work and all that, uh.” He gestures toward the band. “That _jazz._ ”

A red paw finds its way onto his shoulder, and someone says, teasing, “Are you torturing the Chief with _puns_ , Nick?”

“She’s heard ‘em all before,” he argues, and drops a kiss onto the vixen’s cheek.

“All the more reason to leave the poor woman alone.” She turns to Judy and smiles. “I hope you remember me, Chief Hopps. From the Christmas party?”

Judy smiles. “Ruth, isn’t it?”

“The very same.” They shake paws. “It’s great to see you again. Promotion suits you.”

“I’m humbled by the decision.”

“The boys here just really respect you. Nick said you were the one who brought him here. I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Nick looks behind her and frowns. “Where’re the kids?”

“Playing outside with some of the others. Some of the cadets are playing babysitter.”

“Poor saps.”

Judy watches them trade gentle barbs and laughs. “Hey, you ttwo, I need to go find your captain, give him my thanks. Don’t break each other’s hearts.”

Nick looks back at her with a grin. “Sure thing, Chief.” He gives her a little salute, and she returns it.

“It was nice to see you again, Ruth. Congratulations on the new kit, to you both.”

 

* * *

 

Judy hadn’t gone to their wedding. Nick had invited her, and it was a sweet gesture, but it had been the same weekend one of her brothers was getting married. She doubts it would have been awkward – her time with Nick had been brief, and honestly, he was _happy._ Judy couldn’t think of a better outcome. Ruth was a fox he’d met during a case, and, as the story had been relayed to her at Christmas, after it was done, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. That’s how Nick told it, gently, to a group of them. Judy hadn’t been promoted yet. She was living on the cusp of it then, the mayor still deliberating.

(“It’s definitely yours,” Nick had told her that night. “You were always meant for it.”)

But it was true – Nick had moved on, Nick had gotten married, and Judy had inherited a city to care for.

She’s sure there’s some kind of poetic justice there, but she was never good at that stuff. Still, it felt right.

The reception starts to die down now, and Judy’s starting to feel a little dead on her feet.

Nick eventually crosses the room to her, murmuring something to Ruth before he goes. Judy catches her eye, and they share a little wave.

“We’re heading out,” he says.

“I can’t leave until everyone else does, so I encourage it.” Nick laughs. “Drive safe, sergeant.”

“Sure, sure.” He slides his paws into his pockets and looks around. Then, quietly: “It was good to see you, Carrots.”

Judy sighs. “You, too, Nick.”

“I know I can’t call you that anymore.”

“Technically I’ve outranked you for the last twelve years, Wilde. You’ve never been able to call me that.” They share a laugh and he nods.

“Right. Well I’m glad that you got this, Judy. I really am. No one deserves it more than you.”

“Thanks, Nick. I really appreciate that.”

He nods, gives a little sniff. “I’m sorry we haven’t…talked more. I know that…that after—”

“Hey. You don’t owe me any sort of apology, Nick. Really.” She puts a paw on his elbow. “It’s been a long time. I’m all better now, slick. I have been for a while.”

“No, I know. I just…” He looks at the ground between them. “I miss you, sometimes. We had a good run together. Those were the best days of my life back then.”

Judy smiles. “Mine too, Nick.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says quietly, then straightens. Gives her a little salute. “I’ll see you around the new precinct then, right? Captain says you’re supposed to come in for an inspection.”

“You’re not getting the day out of me, Wilde. It’s a surprise for a reason.” He laughs. “You can take the hustler off the streets…”

Nick flashes those teeth, and Judy smiles. “What can I say, Carrots. Some things, they never change.”

 

* * *

 

Some things don’t change, and others never stop. This is one of the greatest truths Judy’s ever learned. She makes her way back home that night, one thing in her life that _has_ changed, and for the better. The nice brownstone downtown was her first big girl purchase, and though the city offered to give her something bigger, she opted to stay here. It puts her in the community, and it’s familiar. This is where she really bloomed, where she moved after her own sergeant promotion and where she really became the best Judy Hopps she could be.

She’s _happy_ here.

She’s happy everywhere, really.

Her uniform goes into its dry cleaning bag to take in the morning, and her hat into his usual hook. She sets her medals in their place and goes into the kitchen to cook something for dinner. All those hours around veggies speared with toothpicks and she hadn’t eaten a thing. _Typical Chief_ , her officers would say.

Eventually, her thoughts wander back to Nick. She wonders if things could have turned out different. Different choices could have been made, sure. Different paths taken.

But she and Nick parted ways all those years ago because he wasn’t ready to be what she needed. Because Judy wasn’t quite finished yet. Growing needed to be done – Nick had been stunted by years on the street, and Judy was fresh meat still.

They’d parted and things had gotten better for them both, so who was to argue they’d made the wrong choice?

She puts her plate in the dishwasher. Someone might fault her for marrying her job, but she couldn’t think of anything better. Judy remembers that the argument against her promotion was that she was single, never married, no children. It had made her laugh because she knew that the exact opposite would have been the argument _against_ her. No reason to take it to heart.

Her mother asked her if she was jealous of Nick’s wife, once. Judy’d laughed. Said no without even thinking. A different Nick got married that day, different than the one she’d parted from on the sidewalk all those years ago.

They were happy, the both of them. That sly fox and that dumb bunny.

Judy goes onto her balcony and looks out over the city lights. Here, with this view, with this life – she is content, and she is at her best.

And all she has is the future ahead of her. She knows better than anyone that the future is always a mystery, but there is one thing it will always be –

It’ll always be _hers._

And nothing, not foxes or promotions or terrible traffic, can take that away. 


	38. bang bang (my baby shot me down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Nick and you’re a fuck-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second one-shot of the final four. base on [this](http://ky-jane.tumblr.com/post/152319207890/age-gaps-nicholas-wilde-age-17-judith-hopps) art by ky-jane, my almost-constant muse and inspiration at this point.

Your name is Nick and you’re a fuck-up.

This is your fourth time in as many months sitting in a cell, waiting for your mom to finish her shift so she can come and drop the hundred bucks it’s going to take to bail you out tonight. It used to be she’d rush over, leaving Rita or Laurie to cover for her while she coddled you and admonished you and reminded you that your father never would have stood for this.

Now she lets you sit. Not because she doesn’t care, but because this is just how it is now. You cut class, you steal a sub sandwich from the refrigerator at Bobby’s deli, he calls the cops, tries to play the dad-card, just because he knew your old man. Your mom gets the call at work and lets you stew in the cell.

Not because she doesn’t love you, but because this is just how it is now.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and when you were eleven, your dad died. Your high school counselor manages to unlock your Tragic Backstory, and in your head you hear the little _blip_ as she levels up in her therapist mini-game she plays behind her eyelids. She tells you that delinquency is normal in kids who’ve lost parents. You tell her you’re fine. You tell her that it’s been six years, and you’re over it. You really don’t miss him anymore. She doesn’t believe you, because she’s smarter than you’d like to think, but it’s nice to pretend you’re getting away with it.

Your name is Nick, and the truth is you miss your dad so much it’s digging a hole inside of you. Your mom sent you to a grief group for six months, but you passed on every question, only ever shared your name, and came home with a craft or drawing. The college kids who run the sessions tried to tell your mom that it can sometimes take time, but she was tired of fighting with you, and eventually, you just stopped going.

When you were fourteen, you got arrested for the first time. It was sort of amazing, right? You stole the spare change from the _take a penny, leave a penny_ jar and the zebra behind the counter sort of freaked out because he didn’t trust you anyway, right? Fox comes into a convenience store, paws crammed into the pockets of his jeans that don’t really fit anymore, rolled up for style, rolled up because they hit your ankles anyway and you don’t need any more shit than you already get.

But zebra calls the cops though, right? They take you in, give you a stern talking to about stealing things. Your mom rushes in, holds you, tries to explain to the officers that your father, you know, he passed away, officers. It was cancer, officers. He’s had a rough couple of years with it, officers.

They don’t seem to really trust your mom either, and you learn that day that no one is looking out for the two of you except each other.

Because that’s just how it is now.

 

* * *

 

When you’re seventeen, a family of rabbits moves in across the street.

You don’t know a lot of rabbits, but you know there are always a lot _of_ them. These guys aren’t any different. They’re farmers, your mom tells you, but Jeanie from the restaurant said that Rico told her that Bobby from the deli found out they’re here to open up a health food store in the neighborhood, something that went over well in their hometown. Your mom is excited. She’s all about that shit, all about meeting new neighbors and trying new foods and listening to new music. She does a lot of it since dad died. She won’t date new people, though. One-tod vixen, she calls herself.

She tells you to help her meet them, she wants to bring over this jello thing she’s made and some candy for the kids.

You say, “Did you buy eight-hundred chocolate bars?”

She says, “Don’t be rude, Nicky.”

You go with her, because it doesn’t matter how many times your ass gets tossed in jail or how many times you push her away when she’s fixing your collar in the drug store – she’s your mom, and you promised dad that you’d always be good to her.

So you hold the jello and the candy and put a paw on her shoulder before she crosses the street, like dad used to do, and you walk over and knock four times on the door. Inside, the sound of children explodes, and the door opens, an inch or so, and a dozen more screams fill your ears.

_Fox._

“Didn’t think about _that_ ,” you say to your mother. She has no answer.

The door finally opens all the way, and an older rabbit, a woman carrying a baby, smiles wide. “Hi. _Sorry._ The kids are skittish about the new place.”

Your mother goes into full on neighborhood welcome wagon mode. “That’s fine,” she says. “Nick and I were just coming over to welcome you all to the community.” She nudges you with her elbow, and you try to hand over the jello thing and the candy. The woman’s paws are full.

“Sorry,” she says again, and calls over her shoulder, “ _Judy!_ Judy, honey, come and help.” A young rabbit hops into view, wearing pastel everything, and takes the jello on its platter from you. You give her the chocolate. Her eyes widen a little at the sight of you, and she scampers off into the darkness of the house again.

“Friday’s the community barbecue,” your mother says, and the welcome wagon is back on track.

 

* * *

 

You are smoking behind a dumpster when you hear the cans you stacked on the other side topple over. Someone’s tripped the rope – not Finn, who knows better. You look over and it’s one of those rabbits. The pastel one from the other day.

She looks at you, your burning cigarette and your ripped shirt and your new piercings and says, “Is this where you play?” You say nothing, take another drag and blow it up and away. She clears her throat and stands almost at attention, paws behind her back. “I’m Judy.”

Still nothing. If you just ignore her, she’ll go away.

“This is a weird place to play,” she says, and begins encroaching.

You make yourself a little larger, and this time you blow the smoke in her direction. She freezes, gives a little cough.

“Smoking is bad for you—”

“ _Boo!_ ” you shout, and she jumps, turning around and running out of the alley. You peer around the corner and watch her race to the apartment, throw the door open and vanish inside.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and you are twenty years old. You are sleeping in Finn’s van and you need to go to work. Finn’s trying to talk you into doing work for Big in Tundra Town, but if your mom finds out you’re working for _organized crime_ , she’ll skin you alive.

Someone is banging on the back of the van door, shouting into your dreams, “ _Nick! Nick you need to get up!_ ” There’s a little click of the lock being jimmied and the door swings open.

“Carrots, I will fucking murder you.”

“Don’t swear. You told me to wake you up on my way to school.”

You groan and toss a can in Judy’s direction. She ducks and leaps into the van, kicking up your blankets. “Get up and go to work, or I’ll tell your mom.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and you know I would.” She jumps out again and picks up the can, lobbing at your head. It lands expertly between your eyes and you growl. “See you later, Nick! Don’t get fired!”

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and you just got fired.

Your mother is crying, because it’s been a really long day for her, and you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food, and she really doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“Nicky, are you even _listening?_ ”

“All you’re doing is crying,” you snap.

The tears stop, then, and your plate vanishes. Your mother grabs you by the collar of your shirt and tosses you out of the apartment. She tells you to go and not come back until you have your shit together.

“Then I guess you won’t be seeing much of me,” you drawl.

There’s a long, _long_ beat of silence.

Inside it, you hear a shattering noise as your mother’s heart finally _breaks_.

You leave, and you don’t come back for a while.

 

* * *

 

You are twenty-one, and Judy Hopps tells you her dad will give you a job.

“I’m good, Carrots.”

“I know who you’re working for,” she says coolly, but there’s a tinge of upset in her voice, and she wrings her paws, looking at the ground and kicking a can across the dirt. “You should get a job and go home, Nick.”

“Carrots, you need to go to school.”

“Your mom comes over and cries sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Carrots, _go to school._ ”

She puffs herself up, bringing her foot back and kicking the can _hard_ , sending it toward the wall. “You’re a _jerk_ , Nicholas Wilde! If you don’t go make things better, I’m…I’m never speaking to you again!”

You shrug. Judy’s been a weird background presence in your life ever since she knocked those cans down behind the dumpster four years ago. But she’s a kid, and you’re not going to miss her.

“Sounds good to me.”

Her backpack hits you square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you. It’s full of books, because she’s a dork, and you gasp for breath, falling on your ass as she takes off down the road.

It’s better, you think. It’s better this way.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and eventually no one is your friend.

Finn is Finn – you learn that the people in this world, the world you’ve decided to live and die in, cannot be trusted, even the ones you grew up with. You could have gone to college, your mother used to say, but you know you wouldn’t have been able to finish. You could have been something, she used to tell you, but all you can see is a dozen jobs in less than a year, a mother who dropped you on your ass, and the nice little rabbit family next door who took her in.

You are twenty-four, and Big takes you into his home.

You are twenty-five when he tells you to never come back.

Your name is Nick, and every thread connecting you to another soul has been severed.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and sometimes you see Judy Hopps on the sidewalk, holding her younger siblings’ hands. If she sees you, her ears pick up, but her expression darkens, and she remembers her promise. You remember it too, and the phantom pain of a dozen books inside their canvas home knocking into your gut comes back to remind you that you don’t deserve what she tried to give you. A kid, trying to make you do right by the world.

You’re twenty-five, and you’ve gotten good at what you do. You haven’t been picked up in a while, and you’re starting to get the hang of the hustle. Finn isn’t really your friend, but he isn’t the enemy either. The two of you get a shitty apartment in a shitty part of town and start coming up with a plan. You learn that the closer you fly to the radar of the law, the less likely you are to get in trouble. A lie of omission is easier to cover up than a web of deceit, and you get _good_ at it.

You are twenty-six, and Judy Hopps invites you to her high school graduation.

“Your mom will be there,” she says.

“Why are you talking to me?” You’re under the hood of Finn’s van, trying to fix the radiator.

Judy shrugs. “I thought you might want to come. Also your mom misses you. Maybe you could see her.”

“Sure, that sounds great, Carrots.”

Her ears perk up. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Okay!” She reaches into her bag and pulls out an invitation. “Everything’s on here. This is going to be so great, Nick, seriously. She’ll be really happy to see you. Should I tell her? Or should it be a surprise maybe? Oh! Maybe you could show up in the middle, like right before they say my name or something, for like a dramatic effect.”

You take the invitation and put it in your back pocket. “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Judy grins. “Promise?”

“Sure, Carrots. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick, and you’re a fucking liar.

“You _lied!_ ” she says, and you get hit with a bag of books for the second time. “I looked like an idiot, Nick Wilde! And she _cried._ She cried and you weren’t there. You _promised!_ ”

“Stop _hitting me!_ ” you shout, and grab the bag, throwing it at the wall. “Stop hitting me, shut up, and _get away from me_ , Judy! You knew I wasn’t going to show! Why would I _ever_ come to your stupid graduation? My mother kicked me out—”

“Because _you_ broke her heart!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve _never_ known what you’re talking about.” You spit. “You’re a _stupid_ , dumb bunny, and that’s all there is to this.”

She stands there, holding her bag in one paw, the other clenched tight by her side. “Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Why won’t you just…let yourself be happy?”

“I’m happy,” you say, slamming the hood of van shut. “Now fuck off, Hopps.”

 

* * *

 

You’re thirty, and you hear from Bobby in the neighborhood that Judy Hopps wants to be a fucking _cop._

“Real nice, isn’t it Nicky?”

“Super,” you say, and hand over some cash for a sandwich.

Bobby chuckles. “Good to see you paying for stuff, kiddo.”

“I’m thirty, Robert.” You take the sandwich.

“Yeah, well your mom says hi.”

“That’s great,” you say, and give him a lazy salute.

 

* * *

 

You’re thirty-two, and Judy Hopps has you backed into a corner.

“You gotta be kidding me, Carrots.”

She puts a paw on her hip. “Not even a little, Wilde. You know everyone in this town. So you’re going to help me, or I’m going to have you arrested for tax evasion.” She waves a form in his face. “Little Nicky grew up to be a _real_ smooth criminal, but this is just lazy, slick.”

“Hopps.”

“Wilde.”

You huff, and you agree. You try to throw her off the trail, try to get her to leave you alone. It would just be _nice_ to go back to doing things the way you’ve always done them, but you remember the twelve year old who used to bang down the door of Finn’s van to get you up for work. You remember the eleven year old who made you buy six boxes of cookies for her bunny scout troop. Judy Hopps is relentless, and she’s all grown up, now. Can’t push her around (not like you ever could) and can’t get hit with a bag full of books anymore (thank god).

“Fine,” you say. “I will help you.”

Famous last words.

 

* * *

 

You are scared.

Your name is Nicholas Piberius Wilde, and you’re _scared._

You’re scared because Judy is going to get herself killed, because this is a bigger mess than you thought it was going to be (though you always knew wherever you’re concerned, it’s going to be a mess), and you both might die.

“Take this to Bogo,” she manages, shoving the case into your hand. “ _Take it._ ”

“I’m not leaving you.” Her leg is bleeding all over your paws. You take out your handkerchief and berries from the Hopps store spill everywhere. “I’m not,” you say.

“Nick—”

“I’m _not._ ”

What you’re good for is a plan in a pinch. So you give her one, and carry her through the museum.

Because your name is Nick Wilde, and you’re finished letting people down.

 

* * *

 

You are thirty-three, and Judy Hopps gives the speech at your academy graduation.

Your mother is there. She cries a lot. She does that these days, pretty much every time she sees you. She cries and holds you and you decide you won’t let her go again.

You are thirty-three, and you’re finally going somewhere.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Nick Wilde, and Judy Hopps is probably too young for you. Too smart for you. Too good for you.

But she gives you a chance, gave you one when no one else would, and if she says she loves you, then you trust her. So you kiss her in the park, her paws in yours, and when she rests her head on your shoulder and tells you she never expected to be here, you believe that she means it in only the best way.

 

* * *

 

Her name is Judy Hopps, and she sort of saved you. 


	39. took my love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not something she'd thought about, adopting a fox. It's something she must have known, deep down -- but she doesn't expect it in the produce aisle at the grocery store. Of course, if this is how it's going to go down, then she'll go down swinging with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a wrap-up to the two adoption stories that were written here. i name their son todd because i named nick's mom marian and naming other foxes is hard. third of the four find stories for this collection.

It wasn’t something Judy’d considered when they adopted Todd. She must have known it would happen, of course. She knew lots of things were going to happen, the same way she knew things were going to take her by surprise. But there was, and there is, a part of her that would always expect and hope for the best from folks, and be broken hearted when she didn’t get it.

She doesn’t really take her son grocery shopping with her. Not for any particular reason, but usually because he’s in one of the dozen after-school programs Nick’s insisted on signing him up for, or because her schedule is a _mess_ and she’s out at one and she hates to be in their apartment alone so she stress-shops and winds up with more parsnips than are really necessary. But today is an early-release for the both of them, and so Judy, wired and hungry six year old in tow, heads to the grocery store with the promise that there will be food after.

And Todd loves to help. _Help_ was his fifth word – less popular than _no_ , more popular than _down_ – and he’s been getting his paws into everything Nick and Judy have tried to do ever since. So when they get to do these sorts of things together, she likes to let him fight with the produce bags and wrangle celery into the cart.

“Mama, can we have apples?”

“Are you going to eat them?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you may have them. Just a few, though.” She hands him a bag and keeps her eye on him as he moves around to the other side of the fruit display, bagging oranges for Nick. She listens for the sound of him counting out his prize – “ _One apple, two apple, three apple_ —” before pushing the cart around the edge of the crates –

“Apples are for payin’ customers, kid. You got a reason to be here?” The ram who owns the place has her son backed against the crates of apples, reaching for the ones in his paw and grabbing his wrist. Judy feels every blood vessel in her body catch aflame – someone has her son, someone is yelling at her son, someone is looking at her son the way they look at –

“ _Get away from him._ ” Judy _snatches_ Todd up, moving him behind her. She’s out of uniform, she doesn’t look the least bit threatening, and she’s _shaking._

“Look lady, the kid’s in here by himself—”

“The _kid_ is my son, and if you ever touch him again, I will shut you down so fast your _hooves_ will curl, do you understand me?”

The ram blinks, looking from Judy, to the little fox shivering behind her, then back to Judy. He clears his throat. “That’s, uh. That’s your kid?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Your son.”

“ _Did I stutter?_ ”

The ram shakes his head. “Nope. Just making sure. You know how it has to be, ma’am. Can’t turn your back for a minute.” And he just smiles. Goes back to his register.

His day goes on.

Judy’s comes to a screeching halt.

She closes her eyes. She _wants_ to explode. She wants to say _so much_ –

But her son is hungry. They have groceries in the cart. They are _almost done_ –

She takes what they have to the register and begrudgingly checks out, handing one of the apples to Todd as she loads their food into her collection of tote bags and heads out the door.

There’s a lot she wants to say, a lot she _needs_ to say – but today, her son just wants to eat an apple, go home, and ride his bike.

So Judy will give him that.

She’ll get mad later.

 

* * *

 

“He _grabbed him_ , Nick. He put his _hooves_ on our son—”

“Judy.”

“He accused him of stealing! Like he didn’t see us walk in together, or like I wasn’t with him the entire time—”

“Judy.”

“You should have seen his face, Nick. He didn’t understand, he was so _confused_ —”

“ _Judy._ ” Nick grabs her shoulders, willing her to be still. “I know. _I know._ ”

“You weren’t there—”

“But I’ve _been_ there.” He slides his paws down over her arms, bringing her close. “I’ve been there a hundred times, Carrots. You know that.”

Judy closes her eyes. “But he’s just…he’s a boy, Nick. He’s so small, and he trusts _everyone_ —”

“He’s six.”

“He’s our _son_. And someone looked at him like he was…like he—”

“They looked at him like he was a fox, Judy. Because that’s what he is.”

She blinks. “I…I know.”

“And you, maybe better than anyone else I know, understand that sometimes, folks just don’t trust foxes.”

She sighs. “ _Cheddar biscuits._ ”

Nick snorts. “That’s a new one.”

“I said _shit_ in front of Todd the other day. I’m trying to incorporate new expletives into my vocabulary.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing what you come up with.” He pulls back, tilting her chin up to look at him. “It’s not the last time it’s going to happen, Jude. Not by a long shot.”

“I just…wasn’t expecting it today.”

“Expect it,” Nick says. “Every day.”

Judy nods. “You should talk to him. He was really upset when we got home.”

“I will.”

“I guess...he needs to be ready for the inevitability of the world.”

Nick kisses her forehead. “He will be. It’s gonna be okay, Carrots. I promise.”

“I didn’t feel that way today.”

“I’m sorry it happened. If I’d been there—”

“I’d be explaining to your boss why we had to bail you out tonight, so it’s okay.”

Nick huffs. “I wouldn’t have _punched someone_ —” Judy kisses him. He sighs, pushing her back against the bed, hefting her up and crawling after her. “You kissing me when we’re about to disagree gives you an unfair advantage.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I can’t be contrary _and_ ravage you at the same time.” Nick brushes his nose against hers. “You’re very distracting.”

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Judy stands in the hall, listening to Nick quietly explain a few things to their son.

“—scary, right?”

“He…do they always grab, papa?”

“Sometimes. You need to be prepared though. Don’t try to get away. If they’re hurting you, just tell them so. Don’t fight them, just be calm. Always tell the truth about why you’re there. But you remember that you have rights,” Nick adds. “They can’t lock you up if they can’t prove what happened, but they’re going to try.”

“Am I going to go to jail?”

“You might. Probably once.”

“Papa, I don’t wanna do that.”

Nick sighs. “I know. It’s not going to happen today. Maybe not ever. Your mama’s gonna run this town someday, so you won’t have to worry about anything.”

“You told me mama’s already in charge.”

“She is,” Nick says, and Judy laughs to herself. “She’s in charge of you and she’s in charge of me and we’re the most important, so.”

“That’s true.”

“Of course it is. Now go tell mama her French toast is done.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Judy rolls over in bed, resting her head on Nick’s chest. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Jude.”

“No, I mean I really love you.”

“I _really_ love you, too.”

Judy pushes herself up. “We’re so lucky to have you.”

Nick smiles. “I was _just_ thinking that I felt that way about _you._ ” He kisses her. “Your son is going to be okay. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight, Mrs. Wilde.”

Judy lays down again, feeling Nick’s arm snake around her waist. “Goodnight, Mr. Wilde.” She thinks about Todd, in the other room, the worry from today already gone. It’ll be back, she knows, but for now, he’s happy. He’s a boy, still, small enough for Judy to hold, but he’ll be taller than Nick someday, towering over her. She knows she’ll still never be ready, still never quite trust the world after today –

But she’s going to keep expecting the best out of everyone, her son especially.

She knows where her family is concerned, they, at least, won’t let her down.

 

 


	40. all we ever do (is all we ever knew)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Happy Birthday, slick. I know you think you’re pretty clever, still keeping at least three different days on file, but nice try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodnight, sweet prince. and a flight of angels sing thee to they rest.
> 
> (northern lights idea from helthehatter)  
> (happy birthday lisa)

_Happy Birthday, slick. I know you think you’re pretty clever, still keeping at least three different days on file, but nice try. You’re lucky I’m the one who went downstairs to chat up Missy in records because she let me sort it all out without sending a note up to Bogo. You know it’s illegal to falsify work-related documents, right?_

_I shared a birthday with six of my siblings growing up, but that never stopped my mom and dad from making the day special for us. We had birthdays every month, but they still found a way to make each one different from the last. You’re family now, so you get a one-of-a-kind birthday, too. I love you._

_Good luck._

 

* * *

 

“She left you a note?”

“And a _clue._ ” Nick shifts the phone to the other ear. “‘Find me where the sweets don’t end and the volume’s always up.’”

Finn snorts. “That’s dumb.”

“It’s so freaking _Judy_ , I can’t handle it. I’m just gonna go give Clawhauser the shakedown. I’m sure she told him.”

“That’s cheating,” Finn says. “I approve.” He hangs up, leaving Nick to look over the letter one last time, repeating the clue to himself.

 _The sweets don’t end and the volume’s always up. What the hell, Carrots?_ He sighs, buttoning up his shirt and heading out. She’d gotten the day off for him, but bugging Clawhauser wouldn’t mean much. When he gets there, the cheetah is happily placing someone on hold, picking up another line, and launching in a lengthy, rather dull explanation of how the ZPD online ticket pay system works.

“It’s really simple ma’am…yes I know it would be easier that way…well you know things are done that way for a reason…I know it makes no sense to me _either_ …sure thing, you have a great day.” Clawhauser hangs up, taking a long sip of his smoothie. When he sees Nick on the other side of the counter, he nearly sprays choco-berry-blast all over the computer. “ _Nick._ ”

“Benjamin.”

“Oh, s _napple._ You figured it out!”

Nick frowns. “Figured…what out?”

“The first clue! Judy said it was _way_ easy. Actually she said you’d be here, like, a lot sooner, but it’s your birthday so I guess you can show up whenever you want.” He leans down and lifts up a box wrapped in brown paper. “Clue _numero_ _dos_ , my friend.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ve got this, so. I’m not worried at all.”

“She’s so precious. _Where the sweets never end._ I think it has double meaning, you know? Like, sure, my snack drawer _is_ always full, but my demeanor is pretty bottomless, right?”

“Your cheer is never ending,” Nick says, waving over his shoulder. “Thanks for the help.”

Ben nods excitedly. “Good luck!”

 

* * *

 

First clue, solved on accident. Nick feels like a moron, but the sentiment slides like water off his back and he settles onto a bench to tear into the box. It has four smaller boxes inside it, labeled one through four. Nick opens the first.

_First date, Tundra Town Tigers vs. Rainforest Rumbles. Friday night, good night for baseball. I turn to you to ask you something, you’re there to lay one on me. No kiss-cam, no ulterior motive. The preteens in the row behind us pretend to gag. You taste like popcorn._

_Second date, terrible vegan food. You order wrong, then claim there is no way to order right. You don’t complain, though. You tell me mine looks good, you eat bread and drink wine, and I buy you tacos from a truck later. You don’t kiss me because you know I don’t like hot sauce, but you hold my paw all the way home._

_Third date, ends early because we have a stupid fight. You don’t want me to meet your mom. I don’t want you to withhold. We are both wrong, and we are both right. It takes me a while to admit it, it takes you a while to be brave enough to say something. We’re both idiots._

_Fourth date, you cook for me. You make a really big show of it, there are lots of beets and root vegetables involved. It’s good, but you think I’m lying. I eat all of it. We make out. We watch terrible court room dramas. You tell me you love me for the first time, and you don’t even stutter. It’s sweet. Your brownies burn. I eventually convince you it is not a metaphor._

_Do you remember our fifth date?_

“Oh you gotta be kidding me.” Nick turns the paper over, hoping that’s just a dramatic precursor to her giving him the answer – hard no on that one. Nick sighs, leaning back and recounting the last freaking _year of his life_ , trying to remember what they did for their _fifth date._

He remembers the other ones, those were really important. He remembers their six month anniversary, and he remembers the one year of the day they first _met._ But he can’t, for the freaking _life of him_ , remember _this._

“Fifth date, _fifth date._ ” It’s gotta be something memorable. Something important. Something he wouldn’t _forget._ It’s not sex. They took a while to get to that. It’s nothing even close to that part of their relationship. That stuff took time, took getting ready for, took the two of them pushing boundaries until they were ready. No, this has to be something else. This has to be –

_Mom._

He bolts, almost leaving the box and its little collection of tickets and receipts behind. He gets a cab to his old neighborhood, throws a handful of bills at the driver, and trying to wrangle his keys out of his pocket.

His mother opens the door, and Nick is standing there, looking like a maniac. “Hi, mom.”

“You figure it out?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“She said you’d be here sooner.”

He sighs and she lets him in. “It’s been a day already.”

His mother laughs. “It’s okay, Nicky. You’ve got time.”

“Did you give her my real birthday?”

“Nope. She figured that one out on her own.”

Nick swears. “I thought I had her.”

“Oh honey.” She hands him an envelope. “It’s cute that you think you can.”

 

* * *

 

 _You remember meeting your mom, right? I got so nervous I nearly made myself sick. Sicker than when you met my folks. (Don’t worry I won’t be sending you to Bunnyburrow. Not this year anyway.)_ _She made the best dinner though, and we looked at photos and we laughed and we loved. There was so much love that night, and I laid my head on your shoulder on the cab ride home, and you and I went to bed and we talked about weird snippets of the future we wanted._

_I knew that night I wanted to be with you forever._

_Did you know? Someday I want you to tell me when._

_But if you’re trying to figure out where to go next, remember the place where roles were reversed. You’ll find someone there. Hope you haven’t kept them waiting._

 

* * *

 

Nick’s got this one. He has it right away. Sort of proud of himself, too, the way he confidently takes the bus to that intersection, gets out, and finds the bridge. Finds Finn waiting under it, eating Cheetos and watching a soccer game on his phone.

“Took you long enough.”

Nick scowls. “You knew about this when I called you this morning.”

“Duh.” Finn hands him another envelope without looking up. “That bunny loves you, man. Or hates you. Honestly, this walks the line between torture and romance. Which is cool if you’re into that.”

Nick snatches the envelope and tears it open. “Stop talking.”

_Yeah, he knew. But who better to keep a secret? And besides, you’re getting close. I bet you slept in, and I bet everyone’s been giving you crap for it all day. But you’re getting there._

_Meet me under the lights._

Finn takes a long, obnoxious sip from his Big Gulp. “What’re the lights?”

“It was for _me_ , why are you reading my shit?”

“What’re the lights?” he asks again, finally looking up.

Nick sighs. “The northern lights. The ones they do in Tundra Town.”

Finn snorts. “I take it back. This is super cheesy, and you’re _super_ whipped.”

Nick throws a rock right at his head, but he can’t stop smiling.

 

* * *

 

Tundra Town puts on a light show every night, and Judy _loves it._ It’s on her bucket list, she tells him. The real one. Nick goes home and puts on something nice and takes a cab down to the plaza. She’s waiting for him, wearing a red dress, looking pretty good for a cop who just finished an eight hour shift.

“I can’t believe you sent me on an emotional scavenger hunt.”

She laughs. “Did you cry?”

“Nah.” He kisses her forehead. “I’m a big boy.”

“Hmm. Well there’s always next year. Come on, we have reservations at Marcione’s.”

Nick whistles. “Damn, Carrots.”

“Big made a couple of calls.”

“Bless that shrew.” He takes her paw and pulls her back. “Hey.”

“What is it?”

“This was the best birthday I’ve had in like, fifteen years.”

Judy smiles. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. For sure.” He looks up as the lights flow over the sky. They’re fake, but hell if they aren’t beautiful.

“I love these,” she murmurs, leaning in close as they both watch the sky explode with color. “Happy birthday, Nick.”

He hums, giving her a little squeeze before hooking his arm in hers. “I love you.”

“Mmhm.” She smiles. “I know.”

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“I know that, too.” Judy gives him a little tug. “Come on, slick. Let’s go have overpriced noodles. I’ve got other plans for you tonight, too, you know.”

Nick groans. “You’re gonna kill me, carrots.”

Judy laughs, pulls him in close and says into his ear, “Not before I have my wicked, wicked way with you, Nick Wilde,” before she drags him into the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

Later, Nick rolls over and presses his nose into the fur on her neck. Inhales. Exhales. Reminds himself that this is his life, that it doesn’t belong to someone else.

“Are you grounding yourself again?”

He huffs. “Just remembering that I got real lucky when I met you.”

“No, you got lucky tonight.” Judy rolls over, walking her paw up his arm before giving his ear a little flick.

“I’m always lucky with you.”

She hums, giving his nose a little kiss. “That’s sweet, Nick.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, Judy.” He pushes himself up. “I love you and I’m probably always going to feel that way.”

“Is that so scary?”

“No.” He pulls her in, letting her settle on top of him. “I’ve actually never been more sure of something in my entire life.”

Judy smiles. She kisses him. “Then I’m sure, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Definitely.” One more kiss, and then she rolls back to her side. “Now go to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Nick sighs, stretching out and curling himself around her, tail wrapping around her waist.

“I know,” he says.

_I know._

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw
> 
> as always my work remains unbeta'd by anyone but myself, and i am not currently looking for one. all errors are my own and caught and corrected in time by yours truly.


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